


Misa Amasora's Pure Love Memorial

by Huitzil



Series: Silent Partner [2]
Category: 100 Bullets (Comics), Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Aphasia, Blood Kink, Disabled Character, Dominance, Edging, F/F, Femslash February, Hypnotism, Mutual Pining, POV Multiple, Pet Play, Plot With Porn, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Redemption, Romance, Safe Sane and Consensual, Submission, Wholesome Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-22 16:10:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 83,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22718701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huitzil/pseuds/Huitzil
Summary: Even if everyone could get a happy ending, that doesn't mean it's free. As Christmas approaches, facing an uncertain future as the new L and Watari, Misa and Naomi realize how little they know about each other and how many of their own personal barriers stand in the way of their relationship.But if they could defeat Kira, they can overcome their own problems and be happy together. Maybe it won't be a storybook romance, but maybe it's the kind of tale that storybooks ought to be telling.
Relationships: Amane Misa/Misora Naomi
Series: Silent Partner [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1633750
Comments: 33
Kudos: 30
Collections: Femslash February





	1. The Birds And The Trees

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentine's Day! What better way to celebrate Valentine's Day than with a romantic story about Christmas, full of self-doubt and relationship issues that won't be resolved until February is over? I certainly can't think of one!
> 
> Anyone who has read "Silent Partner, Unfinished Business" knows _exactly_ what I had to change and where in order to set up this story, but please don't tell anyone else in the comments. If anyone reads this first, I want the ending of the prequel to be a surprise. Unlike that one, though, this one doesn't have a secret: Misa and Naomi are going to get the happy ending they deserve, so don't worry.

### 
    
    
    * M I S A *

You know, there's "happy to be alive", and then there's "happy to be alive". I was definitely the second one. Not only was I alive, I was allowed to be! I was... I mean, I wasn't 'in the clear', but, like, I was cleared for takeoff.

I mean, the people I talked to weren't happy. Weren't showering me in flowers. But I was here. So, time to celebrate. Just let it go and be a normal person for a bit.

So we were still in the greater Tokyo area and were like "You know what? Let's go to an amusement park!" Now you would think we'd go to Disneyland, but that would be a bad idea, because when you try to duck out of Disneyland because you've been spotted by someone, you have to make your way through like 3 plazas and a pavilion and a castle and a educational cineplex before you actually get out. See, I am going to be a super-capable assistant, so I gotta know that stuff. Plus, I had an ulterior motive. 

If you've ever seen a picture of Yokohama, you've seen the Ferris wheel. It's the Cosmo Clock 21 in Cosmo World, it's got a digital output on the side so they can call it the world's largest clock, and it was also the largest Ferris wheel in the world for a while. But now there's like some giant one that a Saudi oil billionaire built out of the Moon or something. Anyway. It's huge, it provides a wonderful view of the harbor, and a trip around it takes 15 whole minutes.

15 minutes of a beautiful view, inside a Ferris wheel car, high up, with only your wheel-mate.

As in like 2 minutes of looking and then about 13 minutes of just relentless, merciless smooching. Without Ryuzaki, who might have wanted to go to Disneyland. And then we can go on roller coasters and log flumes and stuff too. 

And the only thing I needed to be careful about was mentioning Space Land. Raye was on a bus going to Space Land when he met Light, and in English "Cosmo" is like a spacey word. And if Naomi thinks in a language at all, I am pretty sure she thinks in English. But Space Land and Cosmo World are completely different places with nothing in common, and Space Land is way out in Kitakyushu, and they don't have the same theming and the Space Land Ferris wheel is way worse.

I had only a bit of lipstick on and dyed hair -- harder to recognize -- but I still tried otherwise to look my best for my date. Naomi always looked amazing in her jacket. I got us the biggest sized cup of orange Sokenbisui tea they had to share on the ride. There wasn't much of a crowd but I slipped the operator five thousand yen from L's slush fund to get us a see-through gondola to ourselves and roll the windows down. The air was crisp with autumn, the sun was just about to set as we stepped into the car. Everything all set up for the perfect romantic interlude, coordinated by the perfect romantic assistant. 

We stepped in, smiled at each other, and took our seat. The gondola was really spacious, I think it was made for up to 8 people, but it was all for us. We shuddered as we moved up to let the next car load, and I set my drink down on the seat, I looked over to her, and I smiled. She smiled back. Both of us right on the edge of nervous laughter. We scooched in close together. Her hand went between our two laps, and so did mine, and we held each other. Both of us were quiet, just looking into each other's eyes...

And then the gondola shuddered as we moved up again for the next car to load, it rocked back and forth, and immediately my giant tea spilled all over the fucking floor. I could see the car below us through a translucent layer of liquid brown. 

"God dammit. God dammit God dammit GOD DAMMIT!" I snapped. I let go of her hand so I could punch myself in the thigh. "FUCK! I'm, God dammit I'm so fucking STUPID! Everything was supposed to be perfect and I fucked it up, I fucked it up! I ruined the whole thing in the first thirty seconds!" I stomped my feet and growled in frustration. The little lake of tea splashed around my boots. 

"God, Naomi, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," I stammered. Frantic words started to fall out of me like there was a hole torn in the bottom of my lungs. "I had it all planned out, it was going to be perfect, we had the perfect VIEW at the perfect TIME and it was going to be so romantic and we were going to kiss like crazy but then I fucked it up because I'm so useless--"

She looked down at me. With those deep grey eyes. Like steel, if steel was also warm and soft and made everything okay. She cupped her hand under my chin, and she pushed it up, forcing my mouth closed. She just looked at me. Fixed me with her gaze.

"Uh. And, uh, uhhhhhhh. Quiet." She was clearly frustrated herself, because she couldn't just like let out a simple definitive command and let it say everything. But I didn't care. I was quiet. The tears that threatened to overflow sheepishly went back down. My breathing slowed back down.

"You... Right. Right. Don't freak out. Everything is okay." And it was. All my breath left me in a sigh of relief. I bobbed my feet up and down a bit with nervous energy, and already the floor was sticky, but now I didn't care. I ran my hands through my hair. Like a comb missing teeth. "Ahh... Thanks." I turned away, blushing. Not that I was ashamed -- what could I have to be ashamed of now? -- but I felt like staring at her would like melt me with divine radiance. I really, really wished she would have shut me up with a kiss. But there was still time.

"So. Uh." We were moving smoothly now, all the cars loaded, beginning to crest the wheel. "It's a really pretty view, isn't it?" I really wished she'd just keep going, go all the way, take the initiative. I guess I had to make it more romantic for that to happen. So I cracked the window for us.

The sun was setting over Yokohama (or Tokyo, I can't see here where exactly one ends and the other begins), and the lights in all the buildings were starting to flick on, place by place. Day was giving way to dusk. The clouds hanging on the horizon were deep orange, the air was crisp but not cold. We could hear the gentle creaking of the Ferris wheel as we moved, hear the lapping of the waves. The air smelled like the sea but we were high enough that it didn't smell too fishy. Everything was beautiful. Everything was in, like, transition, changing from one thing to the other. Day into night, the lights coming on, the fishermen coming back, the crowds coming out to live their lives. 

Naomi blushed and put her hands together between her legs. "Uh." I waited very patiently for her to speak, because I didn't want her to feel awkward or self-conscious, and it would be worth it. "Uh, and, uh... Er, and, and..." She snapped her fingers unconsciously. "And, uh, and, uh, and, uh... Shirt!" She pointed to my blouse, and she made a wide, happy grin.

"You like how I'm dressed?" It looked like I was right -- maybe I could tell myself I was so beautiful it left her at a loss for words. "Thanks! I was worried, you know. Like, after I got out of custody, but everything turned out okay." At that, she looked confused. "Ah, you know, all my clothes are tailored. So, I lost a bunch of weight, and then I had to gain it back, so I was worried that it would come back, like, distributed differently, and then none of my clothes would look right." Did that sound like out of touch or egotistical? "I mean, it's not just something I do! Every celebrity you see, all of them have all their clothes tailored, that's how we can look so good in just like a plain T-shirt. Like, like I, my weird foot skin thing, I need a little extra room in my left heel, but like, like I broke my collarbone when I was eight and I slipped on some ice, so my right shoulder is just sliiightly lower than the left. That's why, uh, when we bought like disguise clothes, I looked so weird." She didn't notice it oh crap stop digging "It's too subtle to know WHY it looks different, but people can tell. Uh, ah, not that it's a vanity thing! I would be fine! With normal clothing! And you, you, your jacket is off the rack and you look incredible! But you know a lot of people were putting money into my image, so I had to look PERFECT, so that's why..."

Naomi leaned forward and put her lips right on mine to shut me up. 

At first it was just her lips, her lips so soft, rubbing against mine. Just a few seconds where I only felt her warmth. Then she lifted a hand and she pulled the hair back from my ear. She held her hand up to my cheek, and I nuzzled into it. She broke the kiss, and gazed into me again. Drank me in with those grey eyes. 

She pushed me against the side of the car, stroking my hair and holding onto my side and kissing, always kissing, I was so totally deliciously helpless against her love. Tingles radiated out from my mouth every time her tongue darted in to tease mine. I took a halting, experimental dip into her mouth, and she tasted like the cotton candy we ate and she tasted like tea and she tasted like everything in the world being where it should be. I slithered my hands into her jacket, one to caress her breast, and one to grab onto her so I wouldn't fly away. I was dimly aware that a fireworks show was going off outside. I was acutely aware of the fireworks show going off inside. Neither of us spoke, neither of us could, neither of us needed to.

I bit her lip, just a bit, just a tease, like I'd seen in the movies. She smiled, like it was a challenge. She broke the kiss just long enough to nip me in the ear, a quick rush of just a little pain, just a bit, just enough to make it thrilling. My tongue was frozen in panic, and hers was just sort of prodding it. Her tongue was inside my mouth, hot, assertive, powerful. Her tongue was on my cheek, painting it with her warm cotton candy spit, making every hair stand up on end. I pecked her cheek again and again every time she broke lip contact, leaving mark after faint lipstick mark.

I was small, so small in the corner of the cab, and she loomed over me like the entire night sky, she was everything, everywhere. Her hand went from my side to under my blouse. Cupped my breast like it belonged to her, and it always did, it was hers. She buried her face in the nape of my neck, and I did the same to her, and I smelled her sweat under the light air of the perfume I gave her last week. I breathed as deep as I could. I almost started to cough, but I held it in, because I couldn't mar this moment, this perfect moment. 

She didn't bother trying to unhook my bra -- she yanked the cup to the side, the strap dug into my armpit for just a moment, just a little shock of pain, just enough to focus my attention and keep me thrilled. Then her thumb was swirling around my nipple, a spiral getting tighter and tighter, until she was on top of it, just barely flicking the pert little nub of flesh up and down, back and forth. I gasped into her neck as the pleasure at having that sensitive nipple tweaked radiated out to my chest. 

She grunted, not with aphasia, with pleasure, with desire. Her finger went between my breasts, forceful, dragging its way down my sternum. My stomach. My belly button. To the fly of my jeans. She undid it one... button... at... a... time. Every button, I felt the waist get looser, get closer to her goal, and I quivered with anticipation. Then I could feel it, I didn't need to look. My panties were exposed, I could feel where the top of my bush was squished by the elastic and poking out from the top. She sort of tickled me under that batch of hair, then she slid her fingers inside the loose black fabric, sliding down to her ultimate --

"Ow, ow, ow, ow, hang on, hang on, okay, stop!" I whimpered as an awful pain shot through my whole body from my nethers. "Fucking, goddamn, ow!" She pulled back, grey eyes all full of concern. She didn't want to hurt me, she never would, unless it was just like that little flick that made it exciting, the ambergris of pain inside the perfume of pleasure.

"Owww..." I moaned. God, I was sore. My pussy throbbed. "Okay, that was... maybe too forceful, or maybe I'm just not ready yet."

I had written that I would die of hypothermia in such a way that none of my tissues were permanently damaged, and still lost fingers. Luckily, even though it's delicate, the crotch has lots of blood and heat in it, so it doesn't get damaged by cold as easily as your extremities. But it sure can be sore and sensitive from dipping into freezing death and back. So sensitive I wore loose pants and loose panties and sat slouched back with my crotch forward, and went without a bra until my nipples got better a month ago. So sensitive that a lover's caress could be like rubbing steel wool on raw, red skin.

"I'm sorry," I said with a smile of total nervousness. "I just... It hurts too much. I need to heal some more. I'm really sorry." Naomi understood. Of course she did. She always did. The passion of the moment was gone now, it would be hard to go back to kissing that hard and not cross a line. "Let's... You know what? Let's just cuddle for a while. That's nice too. That feels wonderful."

So we did. She sat up in the middle, I leaned into her, she wrapped her arm around me. Her jacket was cool, her chest was warm as I rested my face and arm against it, warmth that brought me back to life. My eyes went half-lidded, and I purred in contentment. All we could hear was our breath. I never looked out of the car again until right before we stopped, and the view was beautiful. 

After we got out, we went to those scam games on the midway. Naomi obliterated the shooting gallery. She won me a giant stuffed Liddo-Kun, and gave out seven more to random kids.

### 
    
    
    * * *

Time is passing. Life continues. Not many people get to demolish their office. Most of the Task Force got to. Soichiro was gone, and the underworld professionals vanished, but Misa, Naomi, Aizawa, Mogi, Matsuda, Ryuzaki, Watari, they see the controlled implosion of the pLaza and the spray of jet fuel to cleanse it. Aizawa gets to hit the detonator. There is a huge crowd, and they applaud politely.

Once the rubble is cleared, it’ll be a new block of luxury apartments. Destroying the old building isn’t even suspicious in Japanese realty.

Officer Taro and Nabiki Egawa are missing. Nobody asks.

### 
    
    
    * * *

Mount Rainier is breathtaking, even when you're there in an armored car carrying the most dangerous relic on Earth.

Amane, Lawliet, and Misora each install a security measure into "the Locker" and tell no one how to open it. All three must be present to enter. The first testing session is very short, but determines that the Note can't affect things unrelated to the death. Promising. Three people peaceably pass, no longer suffering from ALS.

After that they take a nature hike with Watari to clear their heads. The pine forest is beautiful. Everything is peaceful, even them.

### 
    
    
    * * *

Misa unpacks some of her knick-knacks directly into the garbage. "It just doesn't feel appropriate to have all the evil skeletons around, you know? A new place, it's time for a new aesthetic." The Second Kira surrounded herself with leering shinigami statuettes, after all. Perhaps not the best for a new Misa.

Her and Naomi meet eyes. She looks back down at the panoply of cartoonish dead in the crate marked //MISA//. Her sugar-skull pajama top. Her Tim Burtonesque alarm clock. The bony Mariachi poster.

"...How about we keep the regular skeletons, and just throw out the ones with scythes?"

### 
    
    
    * M I S A *

"Hi Mom. Hi Dad. Wow, I haven't... I haven't really talked to you since it happened, have I?" I said. Nervously ground my foot against the ground. "I thought, I dunno, this was what crazy people did. Or, I don't know, it would make me too sad. I guess I... I guess SHE got too busy when she moved out of Osaka. And then, you know, quarantine, couldn't go too far from HQ, in Tokyo, and then we had to go abroad..."

//HAYATO AMANE  
July 15, 1955-  
-May 19, 2006  
BELOVED HUSBAND AND FATHER  
YOUR SUPPORT WILL ALWAYS BE PRECIOUS TO US//

//CHIAKI MARIA AMANE  
November 12, 1961-  
-May 19, 2006  
BELOVED WIFE AND MOTHER  
YOUR FAITH WILL ALWAYS UPLIFT US//

I already washed the gravestones like you're supposed to, but it had rained recently, so I didn't think they looked any different. "Wow, so, a lot has happened, huh? I moved back to Osaka. We went to America, but, we didn't really do anything touristy. Just, like, went to the forest, in and out, didn't want to do too much. And, I'm getting my driver's license now, like you wanted, Mom. Gonna go through classes for that, and then learn English, and then, uh, some martial art. Haven't decided. I uh, I got a really important job. Working for L. And then I... sort of lost every other gig I had. Sorry, Dad." I blew some hair out of my face. I don't think there was any, but I blew anyway. "The, uh, the guy who killed you... He didn't get away with it. But then, the one who made that happen... he turned out to not be very good either. That, um. That's soooort of why I worked for L. But, I mean, it was..."

I sat down, cross-legged, on the stone path in front of them. My butt was wet, but it didn't matter. "I know you guys didn't fight about your beliefs. I guess now you found out who was right anyway, huh?" I waved the two bouquets I was holding back and forth a little. A nervous tic. Tried not to wiggle them enough that petals fell off. "If they're both real, I hope they don't split you up. It wouldn't be right to separate you to two different places. You loved each other more than that. I hope, I hope they let Dad into Heaven as your plus one. Seemed like a better deal." Sigh. "I wish you could, like, just tell me what happens. Because. Because it's, it's kind of become an issue here."

They didn't say anything. Not even wind. 

"I'm sorry. I went to... a bad place after you guys died. And I became a different person. Someone you wouldn't be proud of." I knew they weren't really here. Or if they were it was like as Heavenly angels. But I still felt like I was in the kitchen, confessing that I was the one who ruined the fancy rug. Even though they knew, everyone knew. I was an only child and they knew who would spill juice on things. "She was someone else, but, but I should have done more to stop her from existing. And I didn't. So I'm, I'm trying really hard to do better. She's gone now. I was stronger than her. I have a lot of work to do, to, to atone for my karma."

A slight breeze. Wet leaves picked up by the wind. Was that a sign? What would it be a sign of?

"'God loves me and there is nothing I can do about it,'" I mumbled. 

The breeze died down. The leaves fell back to the ground.

"There's someone I wanted you guys to meet," I said. Even just bringing that topic up made me happier. "This is Naomi. She's my special... She's my girlfriend. She saved my life a lot of different ways." Naomi took a step forward. She kind of gave a little wave. There isn't really a protocol for how to act in this situation. "She's a really good person. She's super smart and very kind. Being with her makes me really happy. So I'm gonna do that. Be with her, I mean. I mean, be happy. 

"You guys know how I am. I get a goal, and I'm just like 'let's do that right now!' and smash at it. Dad, I kept at you, and you kept bothering movie guys until they give me a role to make me go away. I like, I look forward, really hard. So I know she did some really bad things. The girl I was, I mean, not Naomi. Made some really bad mistakes. But I went around and I asked for forgiveness and I think I got it. And I'm still gonna try to do good things. But I have someone I love and, and I'm going to be happy while I do it. Okay? You guys, you guys wouldn't want me to be sad all the time. I know that."

And I did.

Naomi took a bouquet and helped me stand up, so more of me wouldn't get wet from the ground. I put one array of flowers each in the little bottles on the front of each grave. I knew there was supposed to be symbolism to it, but I never got a straight answer to what flower meant what, so I went for a variety bouquet. I had a lot of feelings about them, so a bunch probably still applied. Then I put the little incense cones in the little bowls and Naomi lit them with her note-burning lighter. They smelled nice, and they were supposed to banish evil spirits. I didn't see any shinigami when I lifted my glasses, so, it might have worked.

Both of us said a short little silent prayer. I don't know if Naomi's would be in coherent English or Japanese or just nonsense, inside her head, but I'm sure whoever heard it could figure it out. I prayed Mom and Dad stayed together and had a nice afterlife. I prayed I could help a lot of people. I prayed I could be happy and deserve it.

And Naomi put her hand on my shoulder. And I smiled. I really did feel better. Mom and Dad would be proud of me now, I was sure of it. They didn't hate me for doing bad things, they wanted me to do better. And that's what I was doing. Tears were welling up in my eyes, but I wasn't sad. I was clear to keep going. That's all anyone can do, I think.

I wiped the tear from my eye. "Okay, Naomi," I said. And I smiled. "Let's go."

She smiled back at me.

### 
    
    
    * * *

Naomi takes a shower before Misa does. When Misa turns on the hot water, the mirror fogs up, and she can see what Naomi wrote with her fingers.

She would be able to write a message in telegraphed speech, but she doesn't. Pictures will do. Sometimes it is a simple heart, flower, or smiley face. Sometimes it is a stick-figure tableau, and Misa tries to guess what movie it's a scene from. As hard as she tries, stick figures on a bathroom mirror are not all that detailed.

It doesn't really matter. It's a fun thing to share.

### 
    
    
    * * *

Whatever training or recovery course they may have during the day, when they take the subway home, they hold hands. They may not interact beyond that, they may be reading a newspaper or manga, but they always hold hands.

And when Misa squeezes, Naomi looks down to her, and she smiles, every time. Warm. Inviting. Accepting. Happy to be reminded that someone is here with her.

Her smile does not say more than words ever could. She is still disabled, and it is still difficult. But to Misa, for now, her smile says enough. It says the world.

### 
    
    
    * * *

"Naomi, may I throw this out?"

"Hey! Don't make that face! You know, I said my blood belonged to you! I wasn't just saying that just to say that."

"Okay yeah it's gross, but, I don't know. Maybe you have something to do with it! It's a moon cycle thing. Alchemists probably want it!" 

"L might know an alchemist! The point was, it's not my blood, so, it's not my decision. So I should run it past you. Right?"

"Okay, okay, I'll chuck it out... This maybe was not the romantic display of submissiveness I thought it was going to be."

### 
    
    
    * N A O M I *

With no Thanksgiving and thus no Black Friday, the Christmas season in Japan doesn't have a fixed date to begin, but it usually gravitates to around the third week of November just like in America. All around Osaka's Dotonbori district, strings of lights were going up in festive green cones. Christmas is also a holiday for lovers (Valentine's Day is gaining on it, but wasn't here for a while), and it's my girlfriend's birthday. So the pressure was high. 

There is a sense in which you know someone, when you have been through intense life-threatening situations with each other. And there is a sense in which you know someone, when you know you have commonality of rare experience you have survived. And a sense in which you know someone when you were that person's only human contact in a dark time in their life, and in a sense they were for you.

But there's also the sense in which you know someone where you knew what gifts to get them, and there I was lacking pretty hard. What kind of gift says "I'm proud of you for defeating the horrible monster that used to live inside of you?" It's not really a 'greeting card' kind of sentiment. Champagne? 

We walked hand in hand alongside the Dotonbori canal. Surrounded by people but alone, just the two of us. Misa had her green filter glasses on, but otherwise dressed normally. When she first came back to Osaka, she dyed her hair and dressed like a hippie. Then we saw six other Misa Amanes on the first day. Misas Amane? By now she was just a fad. Maybe her die-hard fans were still playing decoy in her hometown, or it was a great way to get attention. None of them were down here. Just the two of us, and twenty or so other people who were not the two of us. And six street vendors. Just the two of us, walking down the canal, hand in hand. She looked up to me and smiled. Quietly, I smiled back. This moment was precious, but it didn't count much as a gift.

And then she broke the silence. "Ooh! Takoyaki! I could go to town on some takoyaki. You want any?"

I wouldn't mind some. Only had it a few times before this year, not really having been to Osaka much, but it was growing on me. She didn't need to relay a special order to the vendor, because your options are 'tempura-battered balls of octopus meat on a stick' and 'don't get tempura-battered balls of octopus meat on a stick.' Just get a stick for each of us, and lean our elbows on the railing, looking over the water. Chomp. Chomp. It was chewy.

"Mmmph." Misa almost dropped a bit, but snagged it out of the air. "Mmmm! Mmmh, okay. Hey, I gotta talk to you about something. They say they won't make my ID final until I'm ready to get my Japanese driver's license. How does 'Aiko Maru' sound?" Pause. "No kanji, that just goes in hiragana. But if you take ‘maru’ like you mark ‘that’s right’ on a paper, then it’s ‘a child who is rightfully loved’." 

I appreciated the explanation -- I could no longer conjure the language in my head to determine how or if you could read a phrase as kanji. I was iffy on figuring out if English words rhymed based on reading them, since I had to say them to myself. It sounded very nice to me, though. I approved.

"Good! I mean, when I had the badge name made, it was kind of a joke, you know?" she said. "I didn't think I would use it. I figure, if we go to America, there's a bit more of a risk someone's going to notice my name is 'Aiko Malkavian'. Even though it's totally a good stage name." Eh. I could take or leave it. I guess I wasn't the kind of person who would recognize it was made up. "Oh, and then we would be Maki-Maru. That's a sleuthing name. Maki-Maru Investigations. 'To be correct is precious'. Or 'Precious boat'. I don't think they'll get it in America anyway." She looked off into the distance. The moon shimmered on the slight waves. "Precious boat. Precious, precious boat."

Omp. Omp. Chewy octopus. Chewy, chewy octopus. 

"Say. Shoko." She elbowed me a bit. "Since we’re back in Osaka, and all we saw up there was forest, I got a question. Is America... really like Amerikamura, the neighborhood?" She looked up to me with a crooked grin. "Because I thought it was supposed to be when I was younger. But then I was like, you know, all these signs are still in Japanese. I bet it would be hard to read."

The time it took for me to find the word was just a bit more than it took me to chew and swallow. "Mmmph. Mmmgh. Ahhh... Statue?"

"They DO have a Statue of Liberty in Amerikamura, that's true," Misa said. Then she started wagging her takoyaki stick for emphasis. "But I have it on pret-ty good authority that's not the REAL Statue of Liberty. That one's still in New York!"

A barge lazily floated by, festooned with green lights. Hm. I pulled out my pocket notebook, and I started sketching. Stick figure... spiky crown... holding a torch... next to a building... And then another one... next to another building... and let's make this one a farmhouse...

"Hmm." Misa considered my drawing. "That's the Statue of Liberty, right? There's a bunch of them..." I pulled the pad back. Drew a BIG stick figure with a spiky crown holding a torch, aside all of them. No? Then an arc from the torch of the big one to the little ones... "Oh! The big one sends out the little ones. Ah, I get it. There's the Queen Statue of Liberty, and it probably sends out one of its kids to each prefecture in America. And then THOSE send one out to each city... and they could send one to each house, and you put it in your window, like a manekineko! Ah, that's why they sell the tiny ones to tourists!"

Snap. Point. Give her the 'this gal gets it' smile. I can do that, but I have to go out of my way to nod yes and no. 

"And they're lookin' out for freedom," she mused. "If they see any redcoats, they bonk them with their torches!"

"Hmm. Uhhhh..." damn it, the thing, the thing they were now, when there aren't any... "Gone."

"Yup, they're gone. Like, that's why nobody has redcoat problems any more, right?"

We laughed. We ate. We watched the water. We watched the hustle and bustle of the passing crowd. Saw another Misa. Waved.

All the people, and nobody here but us. Two people watching the world together. I tore off the page with my drawing on it and flung it into the water. It floated like a lily pad. No secret confidential information on it this time.

I love her. She kept me going when I was in my darkest places. She saved my life and she saved the world. How do I tell her how much she means to me when I can barely tell anyone a god damn thing?

When she makes me feel so good to be around, why do I feel so horrible?

### 
    
    
    * * *

Misa sits in Naomi's lap, held tight, as she winces and touches the ink-soaked paper. The memories come flooding back. She reels, and would fall to the floor if she wasn't stabilized by someone she loves. She slams the box closed. "I give it up! I give it up! I want, I, I revoke my ownership of the notebook!"

She sits there a bit, breath ragged. They can't do this more than once every couple weeks. But she smiles when she looks up to Naomi. "Just once more, right?" 

Rule 38a. Death Note memories can only come back six times.

### 
    
    
    * * *

“Blushing is when blood rushes to your cheeks. When I blush when I see you, that means I have too much!”

Misa hisses in pain at the incision on her arm, and then a wave of relief washes over her as the pressure is relieved. Naomi smiles and licks up a spot of her blood, her essence. 

Then she smiles and puts the gauze over Misa’s wrist. There isn’t even any blood oozing down her lip. She only had a little. She only takes as much as she needs, but…

Was that really all of Misa’s life that she wanted?

### 
    
    
    * * *

When Naomi was in 7th grade she tried to dye her hair.

"Okay. That card means that your story happened to you, in Japan."

She put powdered drink mix in the shower head, and stained everything but her hair blue.

"The nature of the story is humorous. Okay, I'm ready to hear it!"

She showed up looking and smelling like a tropical alien.

"And it... It involves water. Right!"

She was so embarrassed, she came up with a different story for everyone who asked.

"Are you crying? No, we can stop... I'll still want to hear about it later."

### 
    
    
    * M I S A *

How do I tell Naomi how much I love her? She saved my life, she made me a better person, she saved the world! Like, what do you get for that? Champagne?

The Second Kira would have given her something SHE wanted, and then been mad at Naomi for not liking it, because it was all about validating the bottomless pit she had for a soul. And I was different! I was going to make a list. And I would look at who she was and what she liked from a gifting angle and then I would get her a bunch of things she liked and it would SHOW her how much I cared!

Naomi was in speech therapy, so having an interpreter would kind of miss the point. I was waiting for her to get out. Ample listing time! 

//NAOMI MISORA GIFTING PROFILE

\- NAOMI IS SUPER SMART!

\- SHE'S ALSO STRONG AND ATHLETIC AND STUFF

\- HEROIC OPPONENT OF EVIL

\- NOT SO MUCH A "HERO OF JUSTICE"

\- NAOMI LIKES: THINGS FROM AMERICA. SKATE MUSIC. LOOKING COOL. MOTORCYCLES. ORANGES. GARLIC. CHEESECAKE.//

No. Cheesecake shouldn't be on that list. I bet the one we had ruined us for every other cheesecake we'll ever taste.

Hmm, so there were some options. But honestly, less than I'd hope. "Things From America" and "Skate Music" are both categories she knows a lot more about than me. It's like when I tried to buy those little gunpla robots for Nori. She had way more of them than I could track, she knew which ones were the good ones and I didn't, so I got her one she had and one that sucked. I could definitely help with "looking cool", but that would take some work and her measurements. I knew that looking cool was really important to her, and she got self-conscious about her image, and looking good was a job I had and respected, so I wasn't going to be all like "oh you shouldn't be vain blah blah blah". Motorcycle? I mean, that's a big gift, those are very cool... but she probably has opinions about which ones are good too. And that's a flashy gift because it's so expensive, but ultimately, we're both drawing from the same L expense account so it's not like I went out of my way for it. That one is a maybe.

//NAOMI LOVES: MISA!//

Yay!

//NAOMI HAS A SPEECH DISABILITY :-( MAYBE SHE NEEDS SOMETHING HELPFUL?//

Hmm... No. Maybe something small. She didn't need new flash cards yet. But having her big gift be 'hey, yay, here's a thing because you're disabled!' would just be depressing. Maybe if it was also useful if you didn't have aphasia, so that wasn't JUST what it was for. Maybe a very fancy pen or pencil set? That's plausibly deniable, and she does a lot more writing and drawing now. 

Hmm. Let's go back. Naomi loves Misa. She lets me know all the time. You're supposed to be all like "aww, you shouldn't get me a gift, being with you is enough," but that's so they can feel like they really went above and beyond when they do get you a gift. And I spend time with her all the time, that's not a new thing! Something NEW we did together.

I mean... I could think of ONE personal experience to give her. We kissed a lot. We'd drank each other's blood a few times since we got out. I knew I liked that more than she did, and it was super important to me, and it was important to her because it was important to me. But I knew she had needs and stuff. And I knew, like, the Second Kira was all "baaaaagh I don't need to have sex with you Light because you being an evil killer fills all my emotional needs, let me menace all these other girls so they don't get any either!" and I decided, I was going to not be that. So I was not gonna be afraid of having sex, even if I don't know all of the ways girls are supposed to have it with each other. I'm pretty sure it was important for Naomi too. She spent like half a year thinking Ryuzaki was gonna watch her jill off, just like I did, she must have been going crazy too!

But, I've been, you know, "testing my limits" hypothermia-recovery-wise, and the fun bits were off limits still. So we hadn't talked about that sort of thing yet. But MAN was I ever missing it. I was getting better, I could probably masturbate with the shower head by now, but I wanted my first orgasm to be with Naomi, because that's super sweet! I would definitely be ready by Christmas. Maybe I could like, get naked, and cover myself in strategic ribbons, and carry mistletoe over my head too, like you kiss with!

...Would that even work? I mean, was that even as much of a gift for her? We hadn't talked about it at all. I don't think she was a hundred percent sure what she was into now, like, sexuality-wise. Heck, neither was I! I was going to figure it out with a chart or something but they don't make those any more. I know Naomi was on the list. Maybe it would be a mistake to assume she wants to jump my bones instead of being very very close very significant friends who love each other but not like that. I want to be intimate with her but I don't want to make a mistake either. But I DO want to be intimate with her. But I don't want to make a mistake and push her away or make her feel sad or mess with being very very close very significant friends who love each other but not like that. But I DO want to get with her... But I'm not even sure how to do that... and I don't want to make a mistake... but she's really really beautiful too...

I'm being crazy! We sleep in the same bed together for God's sakes! We went on dates! We got on the Cosmo Clock and made out and she was all the fuck over me! Not only does she love me, she's totally into me. I am a normal-ass adult human woman who has sexual needs and there is nothing wrong with wanting them fulfilled. SHE was never going to have sex and that's probably why SHE was so crazy and vindictive, and I'm not her, so QED, the moment I'm not sore, grab her hand and shove it down my panties and tell her to work my clit like she's fiddling with the rearview mirror adjuster!

But she usually holds you to make me feel safe, not like she's pawing at you. The moment at the Cosmo Clock passed, that couldn't get brought back, maybe it gave her enough time to think things over and realize what she really wanted. And sleeping in the same bed isn't a sex thing at all because it's ALSO a matter of being harder to ambush by the Illuminati or crooked cops. You can't trust your intuition on this one! You get way too attached way too quick and you don't know what a normal non-crazy person would do! 

But we kiss! All sorts of other times! Smooching is romantic!

She also drinks your blood to make you feel happy, not because she's into it! She's humoring you! You can't force intimacy with someone who isn't into it! That's a bad mistake! That's the not-fun crazy! There's different kinds of love and bad crazy people mix them up and drive everyone away! And need I remind you that you leapt into a relationship with literally the worst human being who ever lived?

No, I did not! SHE did that! And the jury is still out on if he's like, Hitler and Stalin level!

So someone who shared 90% of her personality and all of her brain with you leapt into a relationship with one of the bottom five worst human beings who ever lived! You can't trust your instincts at all! You are a crazy person!

Ugh. Then proposing to her was probably a bad idea too. Would I even be the one who does that? Like, how does that work when you're both girls, do you figure out who's more guy-ish and they pop the question? I mean... She was super strong in more ways than one, and she kept me safe, and I was mostly there to look pretty, so maybe it wasn't super enlightened but I felt like she was the guy-girl and I was the girl-girl in this equation. I'd say I wished they taught this stuff in school, but, I was an actress, so I was being tutored when I figure they would have covered it.

Slip her some tasteful nudes? See how that shakes out? I don't have any of those. You can't really pick those up on the way home from driver's ed. I didn't really have a whole lot of time to get her stuff in secret, did I?

Naomi came out of speech therapy, early, and that's what I was thinking about when I said "Hey, you're done! I was just thinking... We need to spend less time together, don't we?"

And then my hands shot to my mouth and I blushed. That came out totally wrong! "I, I mean, we're watching each other too much! I can't buy any gifts for you when you know about them, right?"

But...

She wasn't shocked or anything. Didn't even look surprised.

"Hey, uh, not anything, like, big, either!" I stammered. "I just mean, like, maybe... Let's hit the Don Quijote on the way home one of these days, and, and, maybe not look at what each other is doing for like 15 minutes!"

She nodded. She did it too quick, and I know when she does it too quick her brain picks a gesture at random to use, so you don't know what she meant. In those cases, I pay attention to her general demeanor, you know, like whether she likes or doesn't like the answer she's giving. But I couldn't this time. She just seemed really far away.

### 
    
    
    * * *

In America they shower in the morning, in Japan they shower in the evening. Naomi is taking both now, because it's time she can be alone without feeling guilty. She doesn't like to be alone with her thoughts. But she doesn't like to not be, either.

It's not that Misa isn't sexy. Each time, she considers walking out naked, for the thrill of them both. Each time, she puts on her bathrobe. She isn't ready. She doesn't know if she is promising something she can't or shouldn't deliver.

Her skin is getting dry. Misa adds moisturizer to her list.

### 
    
    
    * * *

"This is crazy," Misa says, still looking at the catalog. "I bet he doesn't have like 90% of these training courses. He just says he does so he can look like he knows everything. What the heck is 'apiary management'?"

Naomi thinks about it for a bit. Perhaps she is trying to remember, or form a plan of how to convey it. Eventually, she swirls her hand in the air, making "Bzzzz, bzzzz, bzzzzz!" noises.

"Oh, like a bee ranch? Huh." Misa taps the eraser end of her pencil on her lip. "I guess I'm not DISinterested in bees..."

### 
    
    
    * * *

Don Quijote's Doutonbori store, the one with the giant Benten sign, looks less like a discount chain and more like an indoor amusement park. Misa rushes off with a list of items that will cheer Naomi up, prove Misa's love, prove Misa's necessity, if not her sanity. She will return as she has more ideas. She keeps her phone connected in case of ambush.

When they meet up, she thinks the blood on Naomi's mouth is a sexy tease. Naomi has spent the past fifteen minutes staring at a display of KitKats, chewing her lip, thinking of nothing at all.

### 
    
    
    * N A O M I *

Why do I feel so awful? Being around Misa makes me feel better. It makes me feel more like a person. But lately, it also makes me feel worse and worse. A surge of happiness, then undercut by revulsion. 

There's a word in English people misuse, one you use when you feel ambivalent, but of course I can't recall exactly what it is now. Whatever it was, people thought it meant you had no strong feelings, but it actually meant you had two contradictory sets of strong feelings. Misa was filling me with ambivalence and I don't know why. Was it Raye? It usually was. We were approaching the anniversary of his death. Less than a year, and I'd thrown myself at another woman. That was reason enough to feel guilt. Why wasn't that it?

Misa had been in the bathroom for... at least ninety minutes. I didn't ask what she was doing. I tried to think of doing something nice for her. Her birthday was Christmas, and according to Ryuzaki, this meant at least fifty percent more presents for her than she got for me. How do you put a value on making me feel like a human again? I guess that didn't count. She gave that before Christmas. I tried to help myself by writing out a gift profile. If Misa found it, well, it was in English, it meant nothing to her.

//MISA LIKE: I - BLOD - ACT - LOVE - LOVE BOOK - CSTME - HOT - JESUS?//

Ugh, why do I keep doing this to myself when it makes me feel awful. Because I'd better get used to it. It's not going away.

Misa poked her head out of the bathroom door. "Quick question! Is it okay if I cut myself a little? Not enough to hurt myself, and I won't make a mess, I promise. And I have a very good reason!"

Right. That was a thing. Her blood belonged to me, and she was just holding it for me. She would shed all the blood I wanted and not one drop more. So it was always important that I have the veto. Because her blood belonged to me all the time, even when that caused silly questions. Or extremely gross questions. I indicated she had clearance.

It was obvious at this point what she was doing in there, especially given her bare shoulder when she poked her head out. She got a camera at the Don Quijote, and she was taking erotic pictures of herself. She'd done all the 'regular' nudes, and now she wanted some with her enticing, romantic blood drizzled over her body. I'm certain that she would assure me it was all VERY tasteful. 

God, I missed Raye. I loved Misa and that didn't make it go away. I twisted my engagement ring nervously.

I still loved Misa. Focus on that. 

Sigh.

Gifts. Birthday and Christmas. 

Maybe I shouldn't. I love her but... then again I don't know how I feel. Maybe I shouldn't lead her along. Maybe she'd be better off without me. Not shackled to a useless, brain-damaged cripple. Just teach her to care about herself and then let her fly free and never think about me again. The longer she stayed with me, the more and more dependent she would become, until she was just an empty vessel again. That would be horrible, to let my presence hollow her out like that.

I was nothing without her. I would just drag her down.

### 
    
    
    * * *

"I give it up! I revoke my ownership!" 

The Second Kira flees her mind again, but the nausea, the brain shocks, the gut-wrenching self-hatred of gaining those vile memories, they linger. She shouldn't have done this again so early, but they needed a win.

Immediately, she touches the page again. She feels the same amount of awful. "It, it didn't do anything! I don't remember anything!"

A small chance of regaining the Second Kira is too much, but she can only come back six times. This is a win. Naomi's smile has no regret or unease behind it.

### 
    
    
    * * *

"I have some pictures here. Very tasteful! I am going to set them down on the bed, and then, I am going to watch TV, and if you would like to look at them, that is fine. You don't have to. In fact, don't even tell me if you like them! Unless you really like them."

Enticing streams of blood trickle between Misa's creamy breasts. Naomi unbuttons her jeans and slides a hand into her panties. Misa really is sexy. And Naomi hasn't masturbated in ages.

Right before climax, she thinks of Raye. She flips onto her face and cries.

### 
    
    
    * * *

Misa still needs intravenous warming once or twice a week until the doctors are satisfied her temperature regulation is back to normal. They make it a special movie night when she does. The IV stand is next to the loveseat, they hold hands, and Misa enjoys warm socks right in her bloodstream.

Tonight, Misa has a special DVD.

"The guy selling the movies assured me this was a 'tribute to the original, traditional, one hundred percent, red-blooded, two-fisted, all-American Christmas.' It's not dubbed, but it has Japanese subtitles. It sounds really cool! Have you seen it?"

It takes Naomi back...

### 
    
    
    * N A O M I *

"I don't know. I'm kind of nervous. Who brings miso salmon to a big Texas potluck?" I fidgeted with the dish in my lap.

Neither the Penbers, nor the Iwamatsus on his mother's side, brought much of an extended family. But Raye's sister Livia married into the Cook family, a family so big it could only rightly be called a "clan", a family so big that a couple of in-laws don't make a drop in the bucket. In America the streets have names, but when you drive far enough out of the city in the car you rented at DFW airport, the names stopped being fancy and became things like "West 300 South". It's so flat and the settlement so sparse you can see the Cook ranch from a mile out. Not even a ranch home, a fully functional ranch. Where they held the kind of Christmas celebration they have to have on the 18th to give everyone enough time to get home to their immediate families and celebrate again on the 25th. 

"It just seems, I dunno, too Japanese-y. Are they, you know... okay with you being hafu?"

He bristled slightly. "Biracial. The word is biracial here. Which nobody ever uses anyway." I blushed. It was one of the only two things I said that could annoy him, but I never got nervous and slipped up around the subject of the 'small world' song. But he got over it right away. "And of course they are. The Cooks are good people. They accept almost everybody... but if you're a Sooners fan or a Cornhusker, we have to turn this car around right now." I chuckled. Even I knew how big football was in Texas. "Miso salmon is fine. They're always drowning in corn casserole, people appreciate a change of pace. But seriously? You can't leave without trying Ma's brisket." I could hear his mouth water. "It melts in your mouth like cotton candy. So tender." I gathered Ma wasn't his mother, but the matriarch of the whole Cook clan, who could be called nothing else.

"All right, if you say so," I said with a little smile. "And we brought booze for the gift exchange, so, that's pretty American, right?" At this we both laughed.

Livia was on the patio, playing some board game with some kids who looked eight or nine, when we pulled up. A group of men were playing cards at the table behind her. Met us at the door, so to speak, even though it was sort of a walk from the car. She was a full-figured woman, young but with a face creased by years of laugh lines, the only other half-Japanese here. "Raye! Come here, you big lug!" She greeted him with a big hug. "Haven't seen you since last Christmas, thought you up and abandoned us for the big city!"

"Yeah, sorry about Easter," he said. "It was a big case. Just couldn't get away." 

Livia seemed to accept that, turned to face me. "And this must be Naomi! I've heard so much about you. Got to work with that L fella, caught that crazy birthday guy, right?"

At this I was the one who bristled. Raye jumped in to save me. "Hey, uh, Livia, Naomi doesn't really like to talk about work when she's off the job." He knew how much I hated talking about that. Thankfully he could bail me out without making it too big a deal.

"Ah, well, I'm sorry ma'am, won't mention it again." She bowed politely, like her mother taught her. She saw the covered dish in my hand, so she had to settle for awkwardly hugging me from the side.

"It's, uh, it's nice to meet you, Livia." I said. "Raye's told me so much about you and your family. You seem like really nice people."

Then she elbowed my boyfriend in the ribs. "Hmm, nice enough to overlook the fact you brought in your girlfriend just to have an accomplice for the gift exchange?" she teased.

"HEY!" bellowed the voice of one of the men playing cards, an older fellow. Stocky. Everyone here who wasn't clearly a ranch-hand was stocky. Very well-fed. "NO CAHOOTSIN'!"

"Raye always winds up with the booby-prize," she stage-whispered to me. "Last year he opened up a jack, like for a car, that had a bikini girl on the little rod."

"You know, that wouldn't be a problem if people didn't bring dumb gifts," he mumbled. 

"Hush, you." she teased. We all laughed. I was more confident in the bottle of black-label Scotch he had in the gift bag.

Miso salmon went with the large and still growing collection of aluminum-covered pans, casserole dishes, and crock pots. Gifts in the massive gift pile in the gargantuan main hall, all arranged around a comically tiny artificial tree. Raye walked me around to introduce me to the others, and indeed, none of them really seemed to make race an issue or behave any less warmly to me. Got more hugs than the last 10 years I lived in Japan, told many times to make myself at home. Ma was a very sweet old lady who took enough time away from watching the barbecue pit to tell me how lovely I looked and how nice my biker jacket was and how lucky Raye was to snag me. Nobody tried to bring up "BB". Some kids play-shot me with plastic six-shooters and I clutched at my heart, gagged theatrically, and fell over "dead". I felt bad for stereotyping them, really, thinking that because they were Southern they must be xenophobic. But I did see a lot of Longhorns hats and jerseys and knicknacks. 

We settled in the TV room to watch a football game. It would still be a couple of hours before the gifts, and then dinner. Half the people here weren't even watching, because the Houston Texans weren't the Dallas Cowboys. I was only paying one-quarter attention at best, just enough to notice that American football commentators always called it "the football" instead of "the ball" and I had no idea why. Nobody ever talked about "moving the basketball up the court." Three couches to sit and read or chit-chat, and more space on the floor. Dinner wasn't for hours, not until after the gift exchange, but the liquor cabinet was open. Raye came in with a screwdriver for me and a snifter of bourbon for himself. He had to hike them up to avoid being swatted by a plastic lightsaber.

"I grew up in Japan, you know," I said to the blonde woman who I was never formally introduced to. "But even I-- oh, thanks honey," he kissed me on the cheek, "but even I know who Darth Vader is! The whole world knew who Darth Vader was! And now the new movies come out, and it's just... I can't even care about him any more. He's a loser now. And I honestly think that's really sad."

"I don't know about all that," the woman said back while I sipped my drink. "I just know Tyler can't get enough of it. That last one, I stopped paying attention about halfway through, but he got in the car afterwards and he was bouncing off the walls, making laser sword noises. I think he thought Darth Vader was supposed to be the good guy."

"Didn't they talk about this in that one movie?" Raye chimed in. "All the contractors on the Death Star who died, how that means the rebels are really the-- go, go, GO, GO! GO! GO!" He cut himself off and rose to his feet, as did two other men, chanting in unison as Houston got past Arizona's defense and took the ball past the 50, the 40, the 30. 

Caught up in the moment, I stood up and started chanting too. "GO! GO! GOGOGO!" 25, 20, 15 yards to go -- sacked on the 13!

The whole room groaned in disappointment, even the kids, who had no idea why they were groaning. Buddy, the guy in the mechanic's jumpsuit who clearly had money on the game, tossed an empty paper plate to the floor. "Aww, fu--" He caught himself, noticing the kids in the room. "--uuuudge!"

A young girl's face, I think she was Shelley, lit up in recognition. "He didn't really say fudge! He said the F-dash-dash-dash word!" The adults and the older kids all chuckled. I was totally lost. It was clearly from something, but I had no idea what.

Raye looked at me for a second. "Wait. Oh, that's right, you never saw 'A Christmas Story', did you?"

All I could do was sheepishly shrug.

"Okay, new plan." He clapped his hands and rubbed them, like he did. "Is anyone watching TV upstairs? I NEED to show my girlfriend something very important."

"Oh, no, honey, it's okay, I don't want you to miss the football game."

"Some things are more important than football! Also, it's the Texans, not the Cowboys." He grinned. "Come on, I promise you'll love it. It's the tribute to the original, traditional, one hundred percent, red-blooded, two-fisted, all-American Christmas!"

I did. I watched it two more times on Christmas Eve, on that channel that ran it for 24 hours. I got a copy with Japanese subtitles, so we could watch it with my parents when we visited.

And then I snapped back to reality. Misa's IV drip was dangling from the stand, and her head was in my lap, sobbing.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" she bawled. "I just, I'm trying, I'm trying as hard as I can, I don't know what I'm doing wrong!"

The first thought in my mind was that this was inevitable. She'd always be this devastated from being near me. She didn't deserve this pain. She couldn't keep a broken person like me functional, and she would only suffer from trying.

But why’d I have a flashback? There was nothing traumatic at all about seeing "A Christmas Story" with Raye. I didn't freak out when I was reminded of other nice things we did together, at least not that badly. If this was how bad my mental state was deteriorating, then...

No. Of course. They warned me about this, too. When there were holes in my memory, I'd fill them with what I had available. But if something was completely gone from what they called my episodic memory -- my memory of events that happened to and around me -- that didn't mean it was gone altogether. I could and probably would still retain my emotional associations with the event. I suspected that the last time I saw Mom and Dad, we might have fought, judging by the time it took them to start looking and how awkward it was when they found me. We must have fought because of, or around the time when, I watched A Christmas Story with them. And I remembered that it was associated with something bad, but I didn't know why, so I grabbed the nearest associated memory I had.

Ugh. Where was that reaction when I met Light? I could have saved a lot of time if I'd felt instinctive horror and revulsion on meeting him, even if I didn't know why. I'd at least have been as suspicious as I should have been. But I didn't remember any of that hate and shock of him confessing his identity to me. I probably didn't have a chance. I didn't have much time to form an emotional response to his confession before my emotions were forcibly altered to... 

That was it. That was it. It explained everything. I remembered these feelings. We were getting closer to the time of year when I felt as intensely suicidal as I could possibly be, filled with nothing but self-hatred and the conviction that everyone else would be better off without me. Thoughts forced into my head by the man who violated my identity. 

And now he was gone and I wasn't and Misa was sobbing and I shouldn't be lost in thought like this. I picked up Misa's chin, I looked into her eyes, and I forced a smile. "Ah. Uh. Uhhh.... Uh." I wanted to tell her it was fine, we could watch the movie, but I couldn't find the words. I was too upset.

No. I wasn't upset. These feelings were not real. They were not my feelings and I had no reason to have them. They were not going to ruin me.

### 
    
    
    * * *

Misa likes the horns of the ska music, but maybe she wouldn't if she understood the lyrics. But Rage Against The Machine is just too much for her. She understands enough English to get the "Fuck you" in the chorus.

She smiles. This is what Naomi uses for her song therapy lately, so Misa will learn to like it. Naomi deserves it.

Naomi smiles. The fear that her actions are forcing a needless obligation onto someone is not real and she won't acknowledge it.

Neither of them like what is happening and neither of them will admit it.

### 
    
    
    * * *

Naomi locks herself in the bedroom again with the stack of photographs. This time she practically snarls as she shoves her hand into her panties. She wants to get off to these and by God she will. When Raye's face comes to mind, or Misa devastated by her inevitable suicide, she banishes the thoughts. 

It takes over an hour, the journey less fun than the unsatisfying destination. Exhausted and fed up, she falls asleep without unlocking the door.

Misa has a sex dream about Naomi on the couch. Disappointingly, she was not so sexy that Naomi ravished her awake.

### 
    
    
    * * *

They go to eat out at fancy restaurants, sometimes. Not many. They must be able to sit, backs to the wall, and also see their food prepared. Which means only a few types of communal grill.

"I'll take a ribeye, as rare as you are legally permitted to give me. My friend would like the teriyaki salmon."

"Miss, I think your friend can order for herself."

The waitress is trying to speak up for Naomi to support her, but Naomi has to hold Misa's thigh to stop her jumping over the grill with a steak knife.

### 
    
    
    * M I S A *

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

Calm down, Misa! Freaking out won't help!

Freaking out won't not help, and there's nothing I can do but freak out! Everything is terrible and everything's gone to shit! I can't do it! I can't do my job and she doesn't love me any more! I've gone too crazy! Fuck, I'm talking to myself right now!

You are a performing artist, you conceptualize your inner monologue as an inner dialogue in times of stress, that is NORMAL because you are an ACTRESS god damn it and you are a GOOD ONE! So calm down! Breathe!

I can't! I can't act like someone who can do this! Oh god, oh God, she's nodding! She's nodding too fast and her smile is totally fake and I have no idea what the hell she actually meant because I can't read her any more!

Improvise! Slowly reach for the door and let her act surprised or not! Let her add to the gesture!

I don't know if she's surprised or not! She's faking now, she's faking all the time! I can't read her emotional cues when she's stuffing her emotions down and she's stuffing her emotions down because she's sick of me! The new girlfriend shine has worn off! Oh god, is it the blood? It's the blood thing! I only figured it out recently, I got too into it, I pushed it way too hard, it's way too weird and offputting! Everything has to be blood this and blood that and she was just humoring me and she can't any more!

So compromise! Find out what weird thing she's into! She liked the costumes, right? Relationships are about compromise! Wear a costume for her!

She is a normal-ass person! Normal-ass people don't need to do weird stuff like crazy people! They can have normal-ass people sex!

She tasted your BLOOD, Misa! She tasted what was in your HEART! And she liked it! She isn't -- MISA! The light is green! The instructor is staring at you!

AAAGH! Okay! Okay! Drive! Okay! Stop thinking about it! I can't stop thinking about it! She misses Raye too much and I'll never be able to give her what he did!

Wear a strap-on! Have sex like you're a guy!

That is not what I meant and you are me so you know that's not what I meant! She's faking her feelings with me because Christmas is for lovers and she wants to be with the guy she still loves who is DEAD because of KIRA! What -- what does she want? Does that mean ramen is okay tonight? Or does she not want it but she doesn't want to say anything? How can I be a good interpreter when I can't figure her out?

Just make the ramen! She's not doing anything and you're hungry! Maybe you can do it sexy? Wearing only an apron, that's a thing, right?

Is that like a weird thing or is it normal sexy? No, no, no! Stop! Stop making it weird! Why do I have to make everything weird? Oh no! Oh, oh, no, what if I'm not even gay!

You aren't gay, you're bisexual, and also, this is your stop! Get up! Fret and walk!

What if I'm not even bisexual? Maybe I'm just crazy! I haven't found any guys hot ever since! I could just be so dependent and submissive and like maniacal that I'm tricking myself into thinking I'm into girls but really I'm just obsessed!

FRET AND WALK THE TRAIN IS GOING TO LEAVE!

Okay! Okay! We're going home! To someone I might not even be gay for and who can't put up with me oh God what am I going to do?

Well if you aren't bisexual it's too late to back out now anyway! You can't stop being crazy, you need to ride the crazy! If she's losing interest, you need to get the interest back! Remind her why she fell in love. I know! The Pure Love Memorial! Asami Kotake's Pure Love Memorial, remember? A heart-rending reminder of all the times you shared!

Asami Kotake was dying of cancer, that's why it was a memorial! And don't say that she was fine in the end! We KNOW they reshot the ending and we KNOW that her death scene was one of the most moving performances I ever gave and you know what I am STILL mad that they changed it, they didn't even get the director back, and I sounded like Han Solo in the theatrical cut of Blade Runner where he reads the voiceover like someone has a gun to his head! People thought that was my fault! They didn't even give me a second take!

Yeah, that was totally bullshit.

TOTAL bullshit!

But you know the concept works! The director's cut was a great film! Make a Pure Love Memorial and win her heart back!

Oh God oh God she's not even looking at me, she's staring off into space, I'm giving the fuck-me-right-now eyes and she doesn't even notice! She's -- she's fiddling with the ring! She's thinking about Raye right now! I'm not even bisexual, and SHE'S not either, she's straight and still in love with Raye! And I'm so crazy I need her and I'll waste away to nothing from loneliness like in the THREE SCRIPTS I DID WITH THAT EXACT PREMISE!

Well it's too fucking late to pull out now! Win her back! You are the Osakan sweetheart, you can do this!

I can't just win her back! I have to beat Raye! I need... Yeah! I need to tear him down, she needs to know she never needed him, and then I can need her, and she won't leave me!

That's the best idea you've had all week! Get dirt on Raye! She didn't need him! She's fine without him! Leslie gave you his contact number, he's got all that investigating, he'll dig up all the skeletons!

Yeah! Misa's Pure Love Memorial, and Raye's Wicked... Anti-Memorial! Raye's Wicked Hate Yasukuni Shrine! 

Yeah! This is gonna work! Great job, Misa!

Great job, me! Great -- oh God, she looks so amazing, even, even when she's asleep, she's so strong. God, God, I need her. God just wake up right now and TAKE me, I need you so much, please why can't you see that?

She's gonna see it! And you're gonna get her! You have a great plan now!

### 
    
    
    * * *

//FEEL GOOD. XMAS WANT.// The TTY device reads her lies back in a nearly emotionless voice.

"You know, honey, maybe it's best if you stay in Osaka," her mother says. "We're sure you're very busy working for L, and setting up with, with your new friend. You don't need to drop everything just to keep us happy."

Is it because they remember the fight last year? Is it because of their obvious discomfort with her bisexuality? Are they depressed by seeing their brain damaged daughter? Are they afraid of what she is now involved in?

Does it matter?

### 
    
    
    * * *

Most people who need the World's Greatest Detective could do it on their own. Now they have to. The enterprise of L is researching more important things: magic. The problem with this is that even though magic is real, almost all accounts of it are still bullshit. Lawliet will need all his focus to unravel this mystery.

His provisional successor will have to solve crimes in his stead.

And now both of them are asking for his help. The pressure is obviously too great, and he knows. They need personal help to prepare them for the task. Soon.

Uuuuuuuugh.

### 
    
    
    * * *

Naomi pushes Misa away. Then she pretends not to. Everyone would be happier if they never saw Naomi again. No they wouldn't. All she ever did was take credit for a self-solving case. No she didn't. Don't acknowledge it. Not real. Not her. Not real.

Misa desperately, silently waits for Naomi's approval. For her attention. Her love and her lust. Misa will die if Naomi doesn't realize how much Misa needs her. Naomi needs to realize it. She needs to have her own needs awoken. Romantic reflections on their first experiences sound crazy. But there's no other choice.

### 
    
    
    * N A O M I *

I didn't think Ryuzaki would come in person. I figured he would be interrogating wizards. But there he was, him and Watari, looking into our security camera. I buzzed them up. I felt fine. I felt totally fine. I'm okay.

"Agh, Ryuzaki is here!" Misa fretted. "The place is a total... wait, no it's not." She looked around in half-consternation. "Huh. I guess I'm just too used to my place being a mess. It's like automatic now."

Picking up her trash and her gross foot skin wasn't automatic, but it was fine. I wasn't irritated. It wasn't real. I'm okay.

Watari bowed behind him, but Ryuzaki didn't bow or say hello or acknowledge he hadn't always been in the room when we let him in. "You need my help. In person, apparently." He pushed his way in so fast, before I even bowed, that it would then been awkward if I bowed to him mid sentence. It's a good thing bows don't count as language, that would have been incredibly awkward. "Your self-directed training isn't enough?"

"Well, I mean, I'm ready to pass my driver's test," Misa said. "Most of the tutoring courses can't meet me yet though, so I don't know what you want me to do about that. I made a list of all the things I wanna learn, though!" She took the catalog off the counter. "I definitely need to learn English, and computer hacking. The parts where you type, not the parts where you mess with wires. And American driving, and medical stuff, and... I still don't know what martial art goes well with capoeira. If the American car breaks down it'd be good to know how to fix it. And bees are cool. I could always learn to draw better. Childcare might be really useful, for, you know, for personal reasons." She batted her eyelashes at me. She knew I wanted to start a family. And I still did right now, because that was what I really wanted, and that was fine, and we would definitely do that. "If a criminal leaves, like, enigmatic clues at the scene of the crime, art history would probably--"

"I wouldn't plan for too many of those," Ryuzaki cut her off. "Most of them are offered for my support personnel, but I learned Portuguese through the crash course system. You will completely lose a month of your life to learn to speak English. You'll be lucky if you remember any of it happening and you don't just wake up with inexplicable language knowledge."

"Well, that's fine! I wanna be a good interpreter, three months isn't too much to be useful to Naomi." Then she chewed her lip. "Maybe I'll only take half a credit in bees, though."

Watari cleared his throat.

"Yes. Ahem." Ryuzaki got himself back on track. "Training is why I'm visiting you, actually. L's training system offers many skills, but what it can't train you in is how to be my successor. Naomi, if you are to be the successor to L--" I didn't know if I did. Would I be normally okay with that? I mean, I don't think I was, but maybe by now I would have realized it was a good opportunity.

"--And I'm going to be the successor to Watari!" Misa cut in.

"Yes. Of course. There is no class for that," Ryuzaki continued. "It's come to our realization that we never showed you the ropes, as it were. That's why we're here. Since you're clearly falling apart under the pressure," oh, that's right, fuck L and fuck Ryuzaki, "Watari and I are going to walk you through the process of your new jobs. Each of you will perform the duties of an investigation, with us guiding you through it."

"Right before Christmas?" Misa was... what was she? Doubtingly hopeful? "I do need to do some investigating, but not that kind, you know. I needed, uh the kind where... So what is the crime? I hope it's nothing too bad."

"Since the point is training you, it's not a 'real' case," he said. "The world right now is quite accepting of the idea that L is recovering from his greatest case, so for a while we can have time to ourselves. You will be walked through an already concluded investigation. Because it is so close to Christmas, we will interfere less with any ongoing affairs."

"Miss Amane, you will accompany me to the United States," Watari said. "I'll be showing you how to conduct groundwork and coordination of an investigation. We will not be performing great deductions -- we will be checking the background, associations, and history of miss Misora." He gave her some kind of look. No idea what it meant. 

"You and I will remain in Japan," Ryuzaki said to me. "As she will be investigating you, you will be investigating her. Since we now know she was the Second Kira--"

"Then you're not investigating me, you're investigating the Second Kira," Misa snapped, but then softened. "Oh. Actually I guess you'd be on the tail end of investigating original me too. I guess that counts."

"--yes, of course. We will be going back with a focus on both you and her, to see what we could have gathered if our investigation focused entirely on the Second Kira. We already know the solution, so we will focus on the process, walking through the case to get to the ordained end. I will of course be with you the entire time, as your assistant, but we will focus on how you would resolve the mystery."

So someone who looked like Ryuzaki was going to be following me around and giving me hints to solve a mystery he already knew the solution to. This was not something I had to doubt my feelings about, and my leg was moving before I realized that I didn't want to stop it. I grabbed him by the ear, and I kneed him in the stomach. The wind rushed out of him and he collapsed.

Watari and Misa both looked down at him, showing no sympathy. "Master Ryuzaki, you probably should have seen that coming."


	2. Wax Chocolate

### 
    
    
    * N A O M I *

I woke with a start at 5:11 AM to the sound of a crash from the living room. I was in the doorway, in my pajamas, gun drawn, before I was even consciously aware I was preparing. Nobody was going to get the fucking drop on me. 

If I had time to stop and think about my reaction, I would have realized it was far more likely Ryuzaki made that noise. I would have still come out with my gun, but I wouldn't be panting through gritted teeth. There he was, in a heap at the foot of his office chair, tangled in with his laptop and cables.

"Oh good. You're awake," he deadpanned from the floor. "Now that you're here, could you help me up?"

I lowered my gun, and I gave him the scowliest scowl I could possibly manage. The kind that would curdle milk, hopefully. Crap, we're out of milk.

He looked at me from the floor, for longer than it should have taken to realize I wasn't helping, and finally rolled himself over on his own. "Hmph. I must have fallen asleep while perched on the edge of the chair and lost my balance." That much was obvious. What was also obvious was that actually sleeping like a normal human being would prevent that. He extricated himself from the bundle of cables. "The research is going poorly. As I'm sure you're aware, if a data set is comprised of more than 50% noise, it's impossible to obtain useful information from it. One type of magic is real, but humans have been inventing stories about magic as long as language has existed."

Ugh, he's not going to let me go back to sleep, is he. All right, if your data is more than 50% noise, then you need to make it less than 50% noise by restricting what gets in. Which is... the, uh... "Uhh... And, uh, er, small?"

"Yes, that is a small amount of data," he replied. God damn it that's not what I meant. "So it would be prudent to find a factor to narrow down our criteria." Back to the glare. "Ah," he caught himself. "Make the criteria smaller. That was what you said. My apologies."

At least he knew enough to apologize. He said nothing else, so he was waiting for me. Part of my 'job interview', I suppose. I went over to the kitchen for a pen and paper while I gathered my thoughts. I had thought on the subject before -- it was hard not to. Magic is real. Kind of a big deal.

You would think, first thing, that you'd do something like 'look for the commonalities in every story'. The Death Note worked all over the world, so it's not a local phenomenon, magic must work throughout the world. But despite every culture having myths about it, we can't do it. We have no idea how it works. Cultures sometimes lose knowledge, but all of them? Not likely. Wizards and witches cannot exist under their own power, because it's impossible that they wouldn't be around today. 

What we see in stories about magic from around the world is stuff that isn't about magic, but is useful for something else. Strange people can put curses on you, because outsiders carry diseases, because we want to keep our culture insular. Witches live in the forest and eat children because children aren’t convinced of how dangerous the animals are. God has commanded his people not to eat pork because we don't know how to cure trichinosis. Our ancestors watch over us because we don't want our children to stray from our values. The gods command human sacrifice because the feast/famine cycle means our population will grow faster than we can sustain.

So magic either is something that isn't consistent and reliable -- impossible to hand down knowledge to the next generation -- or it can't be something you do on your own. The Death Note is very consistent. But it is an object we cannot reproduce, given by a shinigami. Magic may require materials or entities that human beings simply cannot physically recreate. Outsiders are accused of trafficking with evil spirits to keep them outsiders, and sometimes people just like to drive outcasts away, but there may be something there. The thing that would be most salient, though, is that an account of real magic wouldn't be useful at all if it wasn't about real magic. It would make no sense to pass down this belief because it accomplishes nothing. If I was an alien, and I didn't know diseases existed, then many human traditions would be utterly nonsensical to me. Since I did not know magic existed until recently, any tradition that is actually nonsensical to me could be something about magic.

I had the pen and paper by now. //STORY -> USE NOT.// That's not it. //BAD.// No. //SILLY.// Close enough. Then on a moment's reflection, I added //GENIE?//

When the Bureau briefed me and all the other recruits on Islam, I found it really weird that djinn existed as regular-ass people but did nothing that you couldn't attribute to shaitan, and they were supposed to find salvation but Muslims weren't supposed to interact with it in any way. They could be taken out entirely and nothing of substance would change -- maybe there was another reason they were there. But just like Misa interprets most things through an acting metaphor, I was probably just sticking the unfamiliar into a framework I was comfortable with.

I handed over my note, and Ryuzaki stared at it for way too long. Come on, you're supposed to be the world's greatest detective here. Maybe he was just tired, because he blinked and shook his head out before saying "Ah. If you're saying that the stories that indicate real magic would seem to have no other purpose, then I agree. But there are some interpretations of Islamic myth where djinn have moral purpose."

After that, he seemed to get very far away. Expression more blank than usual, staring off into space. I silently hoped he'd fallen back to sleep, and I started edging my way back to the bedroom door. But then he started up again. "Miss Misora, you must be aware that you were one of the people on the list to be my successor." God damn it just let me go back to bed. "Yet, you're three years older than me." Deep sigh. "I will be investigating more important matters. In this span of time, I doubt there is much of substance I could teach you. I'm merely here to see how you work, see if you meet my standards." He stared up at me with his haunted, raccooney eyes. 

Well I'm older than you and succeeding you and you're not going to teach me, so, I ain't gotta stay up for you. I stopped trying to be subtle, and I just walked back into my bedroom and locked the door.

### 
    
    
    * * *

Interview? Yeah, I can talk about Naomi, but I don’t have much nice to say. Naomi and I never got along all that well. I know she was the talk of the Bureau, but, well, there was a reason they called her ‘Massacre Misora’. She got into situations that required lethal force with… unusual frequency. Maybe it could have been because she took more high-risk cases. But I never trusted her. Thought she might snap at any minute. I was relieved when I heard she was retiring from the force, before she caused a major incident.

### 
    
    
    * * *

"They say Misa turned her back on Kira, and I’m glad. Kira made her a different person, you know? She was fun to hang out with, she made you laugh, she got the whole group at ease with each other. Then it was just all Kira this, Kira that, do this for me, do that for me. I honestly started missing her before she even moved to Tokyo. Kira messed with her, but, I mean, it was a pretty bad time for her. Kira did the right thing to that guy. Just glad she finally, you know, moved on."

### 
    
    
    * * *

"I basically didn’t know Raye outside his relationship with Naomi, but they seemed great for each other. Surprised that she retired and not him, but, guess they were just old-fashioned Japanese that way. Didn’t want to conference call with the guy, though, because he would fall asleep on you. Outside of that, he was a good worker, and a good friend. Inappropriate? No, never. Most he would give Naomi was a hug while on the clock, even though one look between them and you knew they were fuckin’ like rabbits. He kept things proper at the workplace."

### 
    
    
    * N A O M I *

"Welcome to my apartment, technically," Ryuzaki said as he ushered us in. "Misa moved out of here in a hurry. She had four more months before her lease was up. As she was of interest to the investigation, I made sure to rent it when the lease expired." After way too much talking, he flicked on the lights. "Wedy has already tossed this place and found no evidence of substance, but I instructed her to leave everything as she found it. This is the first time I've been here in person."

Ryuzaki was wrong. Misa lived here. The Second Kira moved out of here in a hurry.

"Wedy did not know what she was looking for," Ryuzaki continued, "and neither did I. Now we should be able to gain some insight into what drove Misa's decisions."

Again, Misa did not do that, the Second Kira did. I hoped he picked up my grimace, but he didn't appear to.

It was important to Misa -- literally a matter of life and death -- that the Second Kira was a separate person. And she had beaten that other person, she was becoming someone better than her. That was enough for me to believe her. But if it wasn't, I still had other evidence.

The first case Raye and I worked together involved a cult front, recruiting for the Children of God. We were just doing surveillance, but we were still fully briefed anyway. Something Agent Taylor said always stuck with me: people think that cult members are stupid or gullible or easily brainwashed. That's not true. Cult members can be very intelligent and strong-willed in the rest of their lives, but a cult recruits them when they are at their most vulnerable, the most uncertain, the most adrift, the lowest point in their lives. He stressed this point: any one of us could have been a cult member if we hit rock bottom and got found at the wrong time.

I've definitely thought about the possibility of using the Death Note to my own ends. Anyone who has worked law enforcement could tell you there are absolutely people who the whole world would be better off if they died, people who went through life exploiting and harming others, contributing nothing but misery and victimization. Not even getting into untouchable Mob bosses, corrupt leaders, and insane dictators. I just knew that nobody could be trusted with that power, because we saw someone who thought they could be trusted with it, and he killed Raye and crippled me. 

So I never had that "I would be a queen, great and terrible as the dawn" moment. But I got presented with some other unrelated means of killing people and getting away with it, and I took it. I still would. Walter Sorenson was still out there. I'd like to think that if I was shot with an untraceable gun and given a Death Note, I would be just as ethical with it. I certainly wouldn't declare myself God. I wouldn't be as remorseless and callous as Light, in the face of suffering I had caused. I wouldn't leap into corruption from the most comfortable position I'd ever been in. 

But at my lowest point, maybe the temptation would have gotten to me in some other way. Changed me. I'd hope I would be so lucky as to have a chance to get rid of that person it made me into.

The Second Kira appeared to have left most of Misa behind here. This apartment was much larger than the one in Tokyo, and judging by what she said it was probably because her parents helped negotiate for this one and the Second Kira didn't have their help. 

"Hmph." Ryuzaki shuffled on in and examined the place. It was a mess. "Wedy wouldn't leave it in this condition unless she found it this way. The Second Kira was disorganized."

"Nnngh." If he was going to try and make a big show of deducing things about Misa from clues in here, I didn't care. If he didn't already know the answers, there would be a thousand explanations for anything out of place in an apartment as lived-in and as messy as this. If there was some clue I could point out to him to satisfy his demand for theatrics, great, but it wasn't why I was here. There would be things here that Misa valued and the Second Kira left behind, yeah, and there could be clues there. But mostly I wanted to bring those things back to Misa.

There wasn't much of note in the kitchen. Trash in the form of food wrappers. A fridge that didn't even knock me over with stench when I opened it, because all there was inside it was condiments and non perishables. Plastic kitchenware and cups, but actual plates. Plates are easiest to wash in a sink, maybe? Drink rings on the dinette set. That was fine. A junk drawer full of random debris, next to a drawer that was empty except for two ballpoint pens wedged into a crease in the wood -- that may be something. Everyone has a drawer full of pens that don't work. Maybe the Second Kira was in too much of a hurry to check for ones that still wrote so she grabbed them all.

"No perishable food items," Ryuaki said. "Wedy reported as such. Mi--the Second Kira must have packed them with her for her trip, knowing she would be gone a while." That could be true, Ryuzaki. It could also be true she ate them all in the eight days she was holed up in here. She could also not have had much to begin with, since she mostly relied on her nutritionist. She did have a lot of Pop-Tart boxes. 

The living space was next to the kitchen, not separated by a wall. There was a conspicuously empty space next to the couch, another in front of it, and an open bracket on the wall where a plasma TV once hung. Either the Second Kira hired movers, or Rem lugged the stuff out for her. Well, I knew, she said she got Rem to do it, but I was going through the motions here. The unit under the TV was empty, but the DVDs and VHS tapes in the shelves nearby indicated what once lied there. The shelves were full, so she didn't take any with her. Most of the discs were still wrapped in plastic. 

There was a good mix of films from what she had opened. Japanese as well as foreign subtitles. //Die Hard//. //Rashomon//. //Breathless//. //Princess Bride Story//. //Mishima: A Life In Four Chapters//. //Blade Runner//. Then twenty copies of the same film, //Asami Kotake's Pure Love Memorial: Special Director's Cut Edition//. She was in that. She'd taken off the wrapping to sign each copy.

I stuffed all of those in my canvas bag. She'd want those back, I think, and even the ones I hadn't seen were probably pretty good. 

"There's space here for a VCR and a DVD player," Ryuzaki said. "Being someone interested in film, it's plausible she had a VHS dubbing deck. She likely took it with her, then disposed of it after creating the last Second Kira tape." If he was trying to impress me, it wasn't working.

I took a deep breath before entering her room. I felt like I was trespassing, somehow. Even though I had been in her room before -- even though we shared a bed, even though she explicitly told me I could look through anything I wanted -- it felt like an intrusion. I wasn't just looking for someone my girlfriend used to be. I was finding someone she had taken from her.

...

The first thing I saw was a 2-meter statue of Godzilla wearing a Hanshin Tigers hat and mirrored sunglasses, with several strings of beads and fake rose stem necklaces on its arms. 

"Hm. A party Godzilla. This sort of kitsch doesn't really match Misa's aesthetic," Ryuzaki observed from behind me. "It must have been a gift." Or it could have been an impulse buy from someone who just got access to the substantial trust with her earnings when she turned 18, reveling in the ability to make gaudy impulse purchases, and then didn't know what to do with it. Or she was experimenting with an ironic personal style, as someone who puts a lot of thought into said personal style as part of her job. 

The bed frame remained, partially-disassembled, but the mattress, pillows, and sheets were gone. This would be the hint I needed to conclude Rem helped her move, because a moving company would know how to take apart and pack it.

Posters on the wall, and no spaces where posters were removed. Left behind. Classic movie posters for //Black Rose Mansion//, //The Snow Woman//, //Haunted Castle//, //The Vampire Doll//. One poster of herself and four other models in Gothic attire, signed by all of them in silver gel pen because the background was too dark for black marker. A headshot of Megumi Okina. They were attached with tape, easily pried off, and I rolled them up. She would be happier being reminded of a time before, before she met me. She needed to know she existed apart from me.

No. Stop that. Fake feelings. Don't feel them.

"Classic Japanese gothic horror. Could be evidence of an obsession with death. Make a note of that." No. I was not going to. Classic Japanese horror posters look cool, and the absurd Kremlinology of criminal profiling didn't deserve my time.

On the shelves on the near wall, she had a few books on film studies, some old screenplays, but mostly manga and light novels. She started Jojo's Bizarre Adventure with Vento Aureo. On the top shelf, a row of dolls, Nendos and stuffed animals. All kinds of harajuku styles, and the gaps indicated she took some with her but left most. The dolls were mostly Tim Burtony ugly-cute, anime bishie bad boys, adorable malformed monsters. Skulls and bat wings and Frankenstein stitches. I'd have to wrap them to take them out of here, but I could fit some of the books in the bag for now. 

"The monsters are definitely her own," Ryuzaki pontificated. "No wonder she was favorably disposed to a shinigami." It couldn't have anything to do with her desire to love things that were imperfect and think that they deserved love too, prick.

Calm down. Fake feelings. Irritated, but not that irritated. Don't feel them.

Her closet was full of clothes, and some thrown on the floor that must have been from the removed dresser. Not even Ryuzaki tried to read significance into that, we both knew that would be true. Whoever the Second Kira was there was no way anyone was packing that many outfits. But there was something... Misa got to keep her outfits from her shoots. They were on the left here. A frilly French maid, a frilly nurse, a race queen leotard, an EGL dress that was incomprehensibly frilly, a power suit, her legendary bloodstained sailor fuku. The Second Kira left all of these behind, as if they were no longer important. It struck me again and again, not only how lonely and scared Misa must have been, but how much smaller, how much lesser, the Second Kira was as a human being. 

"Hmm. I've made several deductions about our target from her living space," Ryuzaki said. "I'd be interested in checking them against yours. What have you observed?"

I thought about it for a second. Then I walked off to get the garment bags from the car.

### 
    
    
    * * *

I was glad Naomi got out when she did but, well, we saw how that ended up. This job wears on people. She liked to think of herself as a rebel, she wound up working for the law, she had some problems with that. She had more than her share of disciplinary actions and she probably got away with more than a less skilled agent could. It brought out a real vindictive streak in her, too. Let’s just say it got hard for her to play 'good cop'. I thought her retiring was good, but I guess she just couldn’t stay away.

### 
    
    
    * * *

Misa was kind of my inspiration. Most of the talent around here was hand-picked by a studio or publisher for the look they wanted -- Misa basically clawed her way into show business. I was a “featured extra” and decided to try, you know, some minor commercials and stuff, see if I could make something of myself. When I joined the agency, Misa took me under her wing. She really wanted me to succeed. Sometimes she was trying to help too much, but she really wanted to make sure I thought she was a good mentor.

### 
    
    
    * * *

Raye was a good friend of mine. Great guy. Not a flashy superstar agent like Naomi was, but also didn’t have her excessive-force complaints. Not to speak ill of her, or anything. He was just a real helpful, dependable guy. Any time he saw someone had too much on their plate, he always offered to lend a hand. Went out drinking with us on Fridays, he was a Sam Adams man. He always tried to listen in when we talked about TV shows he didn’t watch, see if he could figure out what they were about. Great guy. Awful shame.

### 
    
    
    * N A O M I *

The gallery was perfectly empty, blank white walls, blank white floor, plank white pillars, halogen lights illuminating its endless expanse. Only one piece of art was on display: Misa Amane, nude, hanging upside down. The rope was tied to one ankle, and her other leg bent and crossed like the number 4. Her skin was creamy-pale, unblemished, perfect. Her completely waxed twat was hanging out between her legs, as if there was nothing unusual about that. Two careful cuts had been made on her abdomen, causing blood to trickle in little rivers up the contours of her chest, warping and glistening ever so slightly with her breath. Her arms were bound behind her back in ribbon. Her perky tits were swaying in time with her, and droplets of blood accumulated on her little pink nipples to drip off when they were heavy enough. And her face, well, she was blushing, but she was smiling so proudly, so wholeheartedly. Her blonde hair was undone and draped beneath her, accented with little red streaks where it had caught the blood before it dripped through onto the floor.

"Wow," I said. "You look amazing."

"Thanks!" she said with pride. "I'm a performance artist now." She sort of nodded toward the placard beneath her, that read //XII. THE HANGED MISA//. "I symbolize new beginnings and new perspectives and something about journeys. Like the new perspective you get from hanging upside down. You look amazing too, by the way! Total sexy badass!"

Now it was my turn to blush. "Well, if you think I'm sexy now, just wait." I had on my tight-fitting motorcycle leathers and a riding skirt, but... Well, the room we were in was small. Nobody else could stumble upon us. I pulled off the riding skirt to reveal that I didn't have any pants on underneath the leather chaps, and my own hairy bush was hanging out for the world (ie, the room with Misa and nobody else) to see. Then I unbuttoned my jacket and let it hang loosely open; I had nothing under it either, so my scarred chest was wide open for her, my breasts sagging a bit without a bra but still looking pretty nice. I smiled devilishly, like the sexy badass I was.

"Ooh! Awesome!" Misa clapped. "Oh, no, wait, my hands are tied up," and then they slid back behind her. "But damn! If I had a picture of you like this I'd grind it up and snort it."

"...wait a second," I realized. "Aren't you afraid of being, like, tied up and bound?"

"I... You know, that is a good point," she said, and though her eyes were covered with a blindfold her expression was obviously splashed with fear. "And all the blood is rushing to my head, and my ankle hurts... Uh, can you maybe give me a hand and get me down?" I started looking for a release lever, but that wasn't what she meant. "No, no, no! Not the rope, the notebook!" she said with the panic rising in her voice.

Above the name placard was a pedestal, upon which sat a notebook. It said //MISA NOTE// and the cover was adorned with designs of black roses and spiderwebs that had hearts in the centers. "Yeah, yeah, that! That book contains everything that is Misa Amane, body, mind, and soul. So could you, like, ah, could you write that I get safely down and untied?"

I flipped to the end. The last text read //MISA IS GETTING MORE AND MORE AFRAID OF BEING TIED UP. SHE'S HANGING UPSIDE DOWN WITH HER ARMS BOUND BEHIND HER AND BLEEDING. HER BUTT ITCHES AND SHE CAN'T SCRATCH IT.// So I uncapped the fancy Mont Blanc pen laying next to it, and I crossed that all out with two lines. Then I added //MISA IS STANDING SAFELY ON THE GROUND AND RIGHT-SIDE UP.// I looked up, and so she was. I could see her hair falling into place, and she scratched her butt with her nnewly freed hand. "Thanks!" she chirped. "You're a lifesaver."

"Are you sure this is okay to leave out in the open like this?" I asked. "I mean, anyone could just come and write anything they wanted in it." I didn't cap the pen. I didn't close the notebook. I was just smiling at her.

"Well, yeah, but that's part of the art anyway," she said as she shortened her hair back into her signature twintails. "It's interactive and it reveals something about you with what you write. But you know I can't put that thing away anyway! Light Yagami was writing in it before we ever met. The Misa Note kind of has to be an open book, you know. Unless..." Now she waggled her eyebrows. "...Someone else were to take it for safekeeping?"

"Safekeeping?" I teased. "Why would it be safe with me? I'm riding motorcycles without clothes on. Who's to say I won't do something naughty with it?" At that I slightly raised it, ready to pull it away from her grip.

"Hey! Naughty? Give me that!" she teased right back, and made a swipe for it that didn't even count as half hearted before I lifted it from her grasp. "Gimme! C'mon!" Another grab, quarter-assed, thwarted by the slightest elevation. "Gimmeeee!"

"Nuh-uh!" I stuck my tongue out at her. "It's mine now, see?" I showed her the inside of the front cover, where it said //This totally radical notebook belongs to the totally radical:// With a swipe of my finger I erased //KIRA// and wrote in //NAOMI MISORA//. "See, got my name on it! I get to do all the naughty things I want to it now."

"Well, I mean, I guess if you own it, and you do something naughty... then you do something naughty, don't you?" She bit her lip and blood oozed from it down her chin. "I mean, you have the notebook, you can do what you want with it... you have it for a reason, after all..."

God she was so pale, so vulnerable, so sexy. I opened her book to the middle, the core. Her eyes glazed over and she had an uneven, half-drunk smile. Administrator access. She was totally helpless to my will. To me. Anything I wanted. Anything I wanted her to do, or to be, she was. What did I want her to be? Mine.

Parts of the writing were printed on in ink, and they didn't erase or run. But most of the objects of the sentences were in pencil, like Mad Libs, and they rubbed away easily. This line that said //Misa Amane is in love with A SERIAL KILLER.// That wouldn't do. Swipe it away. Write what I want. //Misa Amane is in love with NAOMI MISORA.// A tingle ran up my spine. This was what power felt like. I wanted it and it was so. I wanted her and it was so. What was next... //Misa Amane is a(n) EMOTIONAL slut for ANYONE WHO WILL MAKE HER FEEL SAFE.// Also wrong, and mean-spirited. I corrected it. //Misa Amane is a(n) LOYAL AND DEVOTED slut for THE WOMAN SHE LOVES.// That would be a nice spot of fun for us. She was mine, she wanted this -- I was making it official, putting out the net for her to leap into, that was all. She was even happier, I could tell even through her daze. Relieved. No, no, wait. This was wrong.

"Can you be a slut for just one person?" I thought out loud. 

"if people can say they're a slut for nachos then they can be a slut for one person or anything else I'm pretty sure but don't quote me" she droned out through her haze of pleasure. 

I put my finger under her chin, lifted her gaze to meet my eyes. They were blank, dazed, totally unresisting. "You love me, don't you?"

"I totally love you more than anything in the world" Her arms hung slack.

"I'm sexy too, aren't I?"

"you are the sexiest person I have ever seen you straight up turned me gay". She gently swayed back and forth in a daze.

"And you think I'm powerful, don't you?"

"you are strong-willed and super smart and you're basically the terminator" A slight hint of drool was pooling at the corner of her mouth.

Yes. God, that was something I needed to hear. Right from the source, the most basic level, with no chance of deception or patronization. I was powerful. I did things. I deserved things. So did she. "And you're happy, aren't you? You don't want anything else. Anything but me."

I could see little bubbles forming and popping in her field of vision. "I'm so happy to be with you but maybe if you have me hypnotized you can also make me think new stuff I didn't think already" Wait, was she making a joke from her subconscious? Was that how that worked? 

"And you will do anything for me. Be anything for me. Anything I want."

"I will bleed as much as you want me to and not one drop more"

I couldn't stand waiting any more. My fangs slid out of my canines like I was getting a vampire-boner. I grabbed her by the shoulder, spun her so I was behind her, and then I sank my fangs into her neck. Hot blood rushed into me, letting me taste and understand the truest essence of her heart. The blood didn't fill me with warmth, its loss filled her with warmth, staved off the chill of undeath. That was not what I fed on. I was nourished by her joy, her ecstasy, her pure satisfaction. Her eyes rolled back in her head, she gasped and shuddered at the piercing pain that relieved all the pain she'd ever felt. With one hand I grabbed her breast and squeezed, kneaded, caressed her nipple. My other hand darted forward to her cunt, and I rubbed at her lips, and I teased my fingertips ever so slightly into her, and my thumb gently slid across her throbbing clit. 

"Oh... ngghhhhh... oh God... oh GOD!" she moaned, and my deft fingers on her snatch and the blood I was drinking from her neck drove her to orgasm in an instant. Her thighs were drenched in her love juices, and so was my hand. All of her awareness was back, in full control of her faculties, because she needed every neuron that could feel pleasure working overtime. "Ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgodohgod..." I didn't stop. I didn't want to and that meant she didn't want me to. She would feel as much pleasure as I wanted her to. I wanted her to feel a lot.

I dragged my fingers up her taut belly, leaving streaks of her pussy juices. I grabbed her tits with both hands and I gripped them, I made it totally clear who owned them and what I wanted, met by gasping and lip-biting. Then I went two knuckles deep into her, teasing apart her folds, trying to scrape toward my hazy memories of how to find the G-spot on another girl. Her clit between two fingers of my other hand, just barely grazing it at first, then going tighter and faster as I rubbed her up and down. I pulled my fangs out of her neck and forced her head back for a kiss. I shoved my tongue into her mouth along with a whole gulp of her own blood. I got to feel her orgasmic screams come right into my mouth, and I sucked them in like they were the only oxygen on an alien planet. There was a puddle underneath her by now. I only had to stop when I felt her legs about to give out.

She turned around to me, eyes wide open, quaking with awe. She didn't speak, no words were necessary or possible. I fixed her with my gaze of power, and I assaulted her through her eyes. I could have forced my way into her inner thoughts, but I didn't. She welcomed me. She opened the door and set out a plate of cookies and told me to make myself at home. So I did. 

"I want you to drop to your knees and eat me out," I commanded her, and I threw open my voluminous black cloak to expose myself. "Eat my pussy while I write in your book."

She nodded, unable to break eye contact until I did. "Oh my god, I SO want to fall to my knees and eat you out right now, that is like the BEST idea anyone ever had." I broke her gaze, and she collapsed as if supplicating before a Goddess. And really, she was. She grabbed me around both my thighs and buried her face into my snatch while I whipped out her book again. I felt her tongue on me, inside me, working every centimeter of my nethers with utterly expert skill, bringing me instantly to a crashing orgasm, sweeping through my body like a tidal wave chasing an earthquake. It was only due to my superhuman amounts of self-control, the awe-inspiring power over myself and the world, that I could still stand up and talk. 

//Misa Amane deals with the uncertain by BLAZING FORWARD NO MATTER WHAT.// I didn't need to change a single letter of that. I put some tape over it so nobody else could. //Misa Amane is a(n) NEUROTIC ditz who CAN'T DO ANYTHING RIGHT.// That was as wrong as anything ever was. //Misa Amane is a(n) BRILLIANT ditz who COMES UP WITH IDEAS NOBODY ELSE HAS.// There we go. She shuddered as she felt herself change, felt herself cradled by my will. She still had no idea what she was doing down there, but she was so aroused by it she was rubbing herself desperately, her mouth worked into such a frenzy she was pushing the very boundaries of cunnilingus.

VAP-VWIP!

A massive, booming sound echoed all around us, shaking the room. That was a worry for someone else. I had more important things. I went to the next page of the notebook, but... I couldn't.

"Wait, what am I doing?" I asked. Misa basked in awe at my composure, so stricken she didn’t even notice the confusion in my voice. "I can't write in this. I have expressive aphasia, I can't form coherent language."

"Yeah, that's right!" she said, and sprung to her feet. "But it’s not a problem! I could--WAAAGH!" She almost slipped in the puddle of her love juices, but I grabbed her to hold her steady. "Ack! Thanks. I could write in it for you! Then, you know, I'm part of it too. We're a team!" She was right. This project was going to be even more relevant to her than to me. She deserved some input -- she deserved to be someone who could do it for herself. She stepped over to a clean spot, and I nearly slipped on her love juices, but she grabbed me to hold me steady. "Hup, there you go!"

She laid herself down on the white tile, smiling, breasts squished up between her arms. I knelt beside her, tracing my fingertip through the slick rivers that had accumulated on her inner thighs. "Okay, whaaaaaa-AAAt's next here? It', ooh, ah, it says, hff, it says... //Misa Amane is ASHAMED of how USELESS and submissive she is.// I feel luh-like we should change that. Ahhhhhhh-I'm useful, right?"

I thought for a second about it. "You are useful. But you're more. You're great. You're devoted, supportive, that's something that's so special about you..."

"So how about..." Misa tapped the pen on her lip. "How about, //Misa Amane is PROUD of how DEVOTED and submissive she is.// That sound good? Because I feel like, yeah, super submissive, be proud of that, that's cool, right?" 

I smiled back. "That's really cool."

Again the sound. VAP-VWIP! What the hell was that anyway?

"Yeah, proud of being submissive," she said with satisfaction as she wrote it in. Lying down in our bed, with her notebook, with me stroking her, was the place she knew she belonged. "Tell everyone! Wave a flag for it! Wait, I think the flag for being submissive to you would just be your flag. Do you have a flag?"

"I don't... I don't have a flag." I said, with an awful dawning awareness. "Wait a second. This... this isn't right. I can't talk, either. And you don't know how to speak English!"

"《Shit, you're right, I don't.》" She pursed her lips in consternation. "《Ahh hell, you're dreaming, aren't you?》"

I nodded. I couldn't respond, I have aphasia, but I guess I didn't need to.

"《We don't have much time before you wake up!》" she pleaded. "《Quick, have sex with me! Maybe try flying while you do it!》"

VAP-VWIP!

I tossed my blanket away, rolled over in bed and grabbed my phone off the charger. The last text message notification was so recent that the screen was still half-lit; it was the only source of illumination in my bedroom aside from the green alarm clock that read 1:17 AM. I could hear Ryuzaki in the living room, tap-tapping away at his laptop keyboard. Ugh. I squinted against the harsh white light of the phone screen when I pulled it over to read the message that had awakened me.

//From MISA^2 at 1:14 AM: HEY IS IT COOL IF WE TELL YOUR COWORKERS YOU ARE STILL ALIVE? THEY ALREADY PRETTY MUCH SUSPECT IT BUT USA KEEPS DENYING EVERYTHING. I FIGURE THEY WERE PROBABLY YOUR FRIENDS AND YOU WOULD WANT THEM TO KNOW BUT WATARI SAYS YOU N//

//From MISA^2 at 1:16 AM: OOPS HIT SEND WATARI SAYS YOU NEED TO STAY HIDDEN AND HAVE A SECRET IDENTITY TO BE L SO PEOPLE NEED TO THINK YOU DIED AND I DON'T KNOW WHAT THE RIGHT CALL IS//

//From MISA^2 at 1:17 AM: SORRY FORGOT TIME ZONES//

I winced, hand over my face. Boy, waking up like this, and waking up from that, did not feel good. I gave her a response. //To MISA^2: TELL Sent at 1:21 AM.// Then I turned off the alert sounds, stuck it back on the charger, and pulled the covers over my head. 

Man. That was a weird dream. For lots of reasons. It was a freaky sex dream, first of all. I was using a notebook to control Misa's thoughts, which is kind of a point of absolute existential self-annihilating terror for me, but it... it felt pretty good? Maybe this is that thing where people use sex to figure out their trauma? I mean, I knew that was a thing that happened, but I never felt it from the inside. It felt real good, not just the sex, but also the sex. I felt powerful, like, like in a good way. Powerful like getting the key to the city and a statue of yourself and your face on Time Magazine, not like power to crush others under your heel. I wasn't even having much of the sex but it was still, like, it was MINE. God, the fact it felt good was the weirdest part. That was a really, really good dream. I've had absolutely nothing but nightmares lately, and not only was this great... Raye wasn't even in it. I wasn't guilty about having fun or feeling good or having sex. I just... kind of did it.  
But now that I’d awoken, I was hit with a backlash of revulsion. Writing in a notebook to control her thoughts? That was awful. I got off on inflicting the same kind of horrible violation that had been inflicted on me. As if I needed any more evidence Misa would be better off without me, here I was fantasizing about perpetuating my own traumas. 

I felt that warm heaviness of sleep coming on, and hoped I would just fall into a dreamless sleep, something that was neither horrific in the moment or on reflection. For the rest of the night I dreamed that BB came back to life and slit my throat while I slept, and then Raye and Misa both committed suicide at my funeral because I allowed them to get too close to me even though I could only hurt them.

### 
    
    
    * * *

"I’m into board games -- hobbyist stuff -- and I bring them in for downtime when we’re on long assignments. Naomi was always the one you wanted to read the rules. She got the system quickly, she could explain it to everyone. And she didn’t just get the rules, she knew what they meant you were supposed to do to win. Good gal to have around. And her and Raye, they were just in sync, you know? He just ‘got’ her the way she ‘got’ things. I wanted to work more cases with her, but I knew I couldn’t split them up."

### 
    
    
    * * *

I absolutely loved Misa’s sense of style. It was daring, inventive, a new image for Japan. Straddling the line between a Gothic Lolita and a Western Goth, yet with an undercurrent of ebullient joy. Someone surrounded by graves, skulls, black roses, mementos mori, yet who was herself a ray of sunshine. As if she herself was the reminder that even in our darkest moments, we can find happiness. A lot of people who went through something like she did were helped by her presence. But it was hard for her to feel that way when she went through it herself.

### 
    
    
    * * *

Oh, Raye was a troglodyte. Inappropriate comments? Absolutely. He was a racist, and a sexist. I was looking for reasons to fire him. He was proud of Naomi like she was his prize he had conquered, always gloating that he’d brought her to heel. I heard him say to her once, “a woman’s place is in the home”. Wonderful to think he had that much respect for his female colleagues, right? If he’s dead and Naomi lived, we’re all better off. The world needed her in the field, and he wanted to keep her barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen.

### 
    
    
    * N A O M I *

For the purposes of the fake investigation, Misa's friends didn't offer much. I recorded the conversations, as Misa would be doing in california, but there wasn't much we didn't know. Good relationship with her parents. Broken up when they died. Outspoken Kira advocate. Left without much notice.

But personally, I was struck by how many of her friends she knew from work. Basically all of them. At first this seemed sad, but then I realized -- of course she would know almost all her friends from work. She was an actress, she was tutored instead of going to school. That actually wasn't unusual. Most of my friends in America, I met through work as well.

The friends I used to have.

What was unusual is that, save for Nori, all of them had never met me before. We'd never gone out to see Misa's friends. Was she afraid of putting them in danger, or afraid that the Second Kira had driven them all away? Whatever it was, it wasn't right. I wouldn't speak to them about it alone, without her approval, but I wanted her to come back and see her friends again. If she had some other social support network, she wouldn't need to be so utterly dependent on me, she would be much happier. She could be her own person.

No. Stop that. Not real. Stop thinking it.

And I wasn't going to "talk" to anyone anyway.

The last guy on the list for today was Satoshi, a photographer she often worked with. The one she'd worked with the day her stalker died. We found him in a warehouse, with a pale American next to him.

"Excellent, excellent," he said to the man with the fake nails and fangs, working the camera from different angles. "Primal. Give me more primal. You are giving in to the animal within!" You know what, it's kind of reassuring to see something so stereotypical. Like yeah, that's a cameraman for a model shoot all right. 

I took my place inconspicuously behind him, right next to the advisor in the //Black Dog Publishing// T-shirt. He gave me a little wave, said "「Hey, we'll just be... Shit, you don't speak English, do you.」"

I mean, technically, he was mostly right. 

"Mm, yes, very primal. Okay. Now the blood is inside you... and you're waking up. You see what you've done. It's horrible! You gave into the animal! Yes, yes! Now, now you aren't even sure if you want to resist the animal's call! Yes, give me the conflict! Give me the anguish! Torment! You are a tormented monster!" The shutter noise on his digital camera went off again and again. "Yes. Yes, Nomura, you're tormented! You're tearing yourself apart! Perfect!" He lowered the camera and pronounced "Excellent! Take fifteen, everyone!" He spun on one heel for one full revolution before he faced me. "「Well, I apologize for Nomura's terrible performance. He has been off his game lately.」," he said in a reasonably thick accent before swapping back to his native language. "Are you the interviewer I was told to expect?"

The model couldn't take out his fake fangs, so he put a straw into a can of beer as he wandered off set. I grunted the affirmative to the photographer, and Ryuzaki handed him my informational card. "Yes. I am her interpreter, Hideki Ryuga. I'm not THAT Hideki Ryuga, my name is just Hideki Ryuga." The American guy looked kind of surprised at the bit of English, and that it was on the back of my card.

I scribbled on a notecard, and Ryuzaki dutifully read out, "//I AM ASKING FOLLOW-UP QUESTIONS ABOUT MISA AMANE. DO YOU REMEMBER WORKING WITH HER ON THE DAY SHE WAS ASSAULTED?// He didn't even have to read it, really. This was all rote by now. //DO YOU RECALL THE TIME SHE LEFT?// In fact, I left that part off, and he added it. Misa probably would have asked me, even though it was obvious.

"I worked with Misa pretty frequently, yeah," he replied. "She was excellent for this client's 'Tokyo By Night' project. We take the pics in Osaka, but hey, America doesn't care. The day she was assaulted? We were doing a shoot for SOVREC's 'Black Roses' line. She was kind of out of sorts that day, her mood had been up and down over the past few weeks. We were shooting pretty late, past when she normally would have left, when she suddenly decided she had to go. I don't exactly recall the time... Ten, maybe? You'd have to check with my secretary. I offered her a car to take her home, because I knew she didn't like the train. She said she'd walk. I don't recall where the shoot was either, secretary would have that as well."

Wow, that was helpful. We knew where she was and when, but we were going through motions, so this would plausibly be the point where we figured out when she was attacked and find the security tapes. 

"It's a shame about the political thing," he continued. "I don't care about it myself, she was a good model. I know my agency has had to cut ties with her officially, but... Just between you and me, miss bodyguard, if she is looking for work, I might know some people." He slipped me a card. He'd clearly worked with interpreters before, he handed it to me and not to Ryuzaki.

That was quick, honestly. Not a lot of probing questions to go through to get the info we needed, he just offered it up. I suppose there was really only one thing left to ask. Not for myself… well, perhaps a bit for myself, but something that Misa would need to know.

I turned to his companion when I handed Ryuzaki my note card. //「WHY DID YOU CHANGE VAMPIRES?」//

### 
    
    
    * * *

“I was really sad to see Misora go. Nice gal, great at her job. Good agent, but fantastic detective skills. You could tell she had a method. She found herself a mystery, and you could see her ask herself: What did this guy want, and why did he have to do this to get it? But the job wore on her. Her and Raye were so happy together when she left, it’s a goddamned tragedy what happened. If she is alive? I hope she gets to relax and do what she wants. I think she earned it.

### 
    
    
    * * *

I couldn’t stand Misa Amane. She was such a drama queen. Always had to be the center of attention, work harder than everyone. Like she was gonna die if nobody was looking at her! Yeah, she changed. After her parents passed -- which was sad -- she was working 12, 14 hour days. Nobody was there to tell her to stop, I guess. Once Kira got in the picture she became insufferable. Then she checked out of her job altogether. Showing up late, calling in sick, spending most of her time talking about Kira, until she just went to Tokyo without warning.

### 
    
    
    * * *

Penber was fine, I guess. We never talked much. He did his work, you know, never dumped anything on me or anyone else. Talked a lot about sports. Comments? I mean... Guy was pretty conservative, voted Republican and wasn’t afraid to admit it, but he didn’t bring up politics at the workplace. But even I could tell how mooshy he got when he talked about Naomi. He was so... I don’t know, proud of her, no matter what she was doing. Always talked about her after she quit. Whatever he was about, guy didn’t deserve to get killed like that.

### 
    
    
    * N A O M I *

I suppose this is where it all started. Not where the Second Kira was born, but where she was conceived. This dingy alley in Tennoji District, Osaka. This was where she was fated to die. Where Gelus died to save her.

The alley was narrow, running behind two rows of shops. Run-down and deserted, but it was once well-trafficked enough to warrant a row of streetlights. Since people don't leave their trash out here, and there were no loading docks and few landings, the only place to hide would be behind a light pole, near the edge of a building that jutted out more than its neighbor. This alley was close to her home, and she must have gone down it frequently lately. A stalker would be able to determine when she would be here, so there's no reason to assume someone fed the stalker information.

"Hmm," Ryuzaki mused, but I shushed him. I was thinking, I didn't need any interpreting right now. He shrugged and went back to his danish. 

Misa left her photoshoot with SOVREC Fashion at 9:30 PM, March 12, 2007. I wouldn't come out of my coma for another week. She was offered a car and declined. Between the death of her parents and the death of their killer, she used a bodyguard, but after that point she traveled alone. Maybe because she felt safe due to Kira. She was caught on camera in front of the Don Quijote down the block at 10:03 PM. She was caught on film again, by an ATM, sprinting away at 10:08 PM. The body of Daisuke Arasaka was reported the next morning at 8:30 AM. So she was back here for five minutes. Even at her speed she could cover it in three.

What was she doing here for five minutes? She hadn't been that specific in the tape she made, and she didn't remember it now. It didn't seem that consequential, but there was one very important factor: Daisuke Arasaka's name in //ARVC-5//, Gelus's original notebook given to Misa, had no associated time or circumstance of death. If he DID put in a circumstance, that would mean that Daisuke's death would be six minutes and forty seconds out -- that's longer than Light was in the ladies' room before he drowned himself, while Ryuzaki was trying to engage the manual override, even though it would have been real advantageous to die sooner than that and not risk interruption. Gelus would have to write the entry before Misa entered the alley to name circumstances of death, like //WALKS AWAY AND EXCUSES HIMSELF TO A BATHROOM TO DIE//. But the handwriting was neat, and we could see from Rem's notebook that her writing deteriorated when she was under stress. 

What would I be fantasizing about here? Writing in her ‘Misa Note’ she ran off to be safe? As if I could justify that kind of repulsive urge. No, fucking, fucking stop that. That isn’t me. That’s the notebook making me a worse person. The stain of evil it left on me through no fault of my own. As if it mattered where it came from.

Gelus had been following Misa for a long time, according to the recording of Rem. He knew this was her last day. He wrote calmly and in no hurry, so he knew ahead of time what he was doing. So why wouldn't he make her would-be killer leave, so she never knows the danger she was in? And two more things: she must have screamed bloody murder when she was attacked, or when the assailant died. But the body wasn't reported until the following morning. And Rem wanted to give Misa Gelus's Note, but she waited eight days to do it, until March 20th. I was awake by then, but couldn't speak at all and nobody knew who I was.

There's no way Misa was held hostage for 2 minutes. Too dangerous. There is a 40-second delay on any kill with the Death Note, so Gelus would know that he'd have 40 seconds of delay before Misa was safe. He knew her lifespan, saw it ticking to the single digits, but if she's stabbed in a vital place and takes a minute to bleed out then he's done this for nothing. Inadvertently saving a life you don't know about won't kill a shinigami, and Rem died to 'save' Misa and I when we had three of five assailants on the ground and the other two outside of cover -- shinigami have to die based on their belief or knowledge they are saving someone. So if Gelus allowed Daisuke to grab her, with his knife, for 80 seconds before he wrote the name with a 40-second delay... there was a huge chance both of them would die, for nothing.

There is no reason to take that risk. The simplest explanation for the delay is the best one: Misa was walking slowly. There is nothing back here to occupy her, and nobody reported meeting or speaking to her here. She was alone with her thoughts, without the people she loved. She felt safe under Kira's protection, but not enough. Her sorrow wasn't gone. So she was plodding with her thoughts. She's not prone to those kinds of moods out of nowhere, so something must have set her off at the shoot. 

That makes it unlikely that if she saw a strange man standing in front of her, she'd just approach him, confident Kira would protect her. The stalker did indeed "jump out at her" according to her tape. He had to have been... right here, where there's a streetlight next to a recessed exist. That's enough room to hide. He died two meters away from here, so that fits.

Shinigami observe humans through some kind of portholes in the shinigami world, according to Rem-via-Misa's tape. Why not just kill the guy more than 6 minutes out and leave Misa in peace? Because he can't. He can only watch people he knows about. He knows when she is going to die, but not how, or by whose hand. She's young and healthy so he knows it won't be natural causes. But it could be an accident. Could be something he can't kill someone to prevent. Misa reported everything Rem said about how Gelus died to the best of her memory, but the terminology Rem used wasn't very specific, and Misa -- the Second Kira -- could very well have gotten the wrong impression of how it went down.

The Second Kira had said that was a beautiful way to kill.

I could hear, on the tape, how disgusted Misa was at repeating that. I could hear her hands shake so badly she tore the piece of flash paper she was threading in.

So Rem thinks Gelus is just there to bear witness to her last moments, but he already knows he's willing to die for her -- he's watching to see if he has the opportunity. So he's watching her through the human tube, and he can't swing the camera around to sweep her whole environment. She walks into the alley with minutes to live. She moves at a slow, erratic pace, so he doesn't know if she will hurry up or turn around. But at some point he sees the killer and writes his name, confident that he won't fatally wound her in the next 40 seconds. So he wrote it in before the guy jumped out at her. But he jumped out at her within that 40 seconds, so he cut it close. 

He came down. He wasn't watching from the tube. At some point he became physically present so he could run down the alley and check the corners for her, because his camera control from the tube wouldn't let him see the danger in enough time. He wasn't locked to her because he was not technically haunting her, so he had freedom to move.

He runs up. Sees the guy lurking with a knife, not hard to put 2 and 2 together. Writes the name. The man jumps out, confronts Misa. Menaces her, and then dies.

God. That must have been so terrifying. She was already reeling, still dealing with the death of her parents. Then a maniac with murderous intent came at her to kill her and make her his forever. Then he fell over dead, moaning and writhing in pain and clutching his chest. Three things that made her feel so powerless and afraid. No wonder she screamed and ran and didn't report the death. I don't think anyone could fault her for that, no way was she thinking clearly. She didn't even leave her apartment until Rem gave her the notebook eight days later.

But she didn't remember the event until she got the memories in //ARVC-5// back. So something happened that classified this as a shinigami memory, to be taken away when she lost ownership of the book. Rem and Ryuk turned to dust and ashes on death, but Misa didn't trip over a pile of anything, and if she did, she'd have nabbed the notebook then -- next to touch it owns it. Gelus got behind her. She looks around in a panic when Daisuke dies, and she either sees Gelus disintegrating, or sees the notebook and the pile of remains, but she's so distraught and panicked that even though she has that memory, and the book knows what it means, she has no idea. She runs, screaming.

Body not reported until next morning. No pile of dust at the scene. Someone had to clean it up. Rem waits 8 days to give Misa the notebook.

Someone else found it.

Someone heard Misa screaming and ducked their head into the alley. There's less than 40 seconds between her scream and the death, so maybe he doesn't make it in time. By the time our mystery man looks, she's already running, Daisuke is writhing on the ground... and there's a pile of dust or ashes with a notebook on top of it. Someone grabs it. Rem wants to give it to Misa but cannot, someone owns it. The guy tells his neighbors he will call the police, but Rem appears to him, and freaks him out, and he never makes the call. He sweeps up the dust but not the body, because he knows what he has. We didn't know the significance of most of the entries in Rem's book, but I would bet money that some time between the 12th and the 20th, there's an entry for someone who lived or worked next to this alley, who Rem got rid of, so she could get ownership of the book back and hand it to Misa. Did she try to guide this new guy and get fed up with him? Or just kill him right away and get lost on the way to Misa's?

Shit. That meant an up to 8 day span where someone else could have acted as Kira. //ARVC-5// only had two distinct sets of handwriting in it, Gelus's and Misa's... but he could have torn off pages. Misa was in no danger of recovering the Second Kira's memories, but unaccounted-for pages were way too much of a risk. Shit, now we had to retrace this guy's steps. If he didn’t turn in or report the pages right away, odds are he was a Kira supporter. Before Rem killed him he could have set something in place to help Kira, some stash of material if he ever found himself on the run, and now who knows who might find that or what they might do with it. Rem damn well could have killed him for getting too close to the idol of Misa’s worship. We needed to account for everywhere this guy had been.

My bile rose when I looked over to Ryuzaki, impassively watching me, undoubtedly knowing the answer and waiting for me to catch up. "BB" had done that too. I'd chased my tail for nothing while the killer led me along with his asinine clues. But this was for Misa's sake, I told myself, and me and Misa were going to be great and she would be happy as my assistant. I pulled out my own little note.

//GELUS -> WATCH. CMERA BAD. COME. BOOK FALL. TAKE OTHER.// That last part was too unclear, so I held my finger under it when I handed the paper to Ryuzaki and in my other hand put up my card for //THIRD PERSON: I am not referring to one of us, but someone who isn't here!// upon which Chibi-Naomi pointed to a silhouette with a question mark on the head. "And, uh. And. Uhhhhh, uh, er... Own."

He stared at it for a few seconds. Eyes not moving. Looking right through the paper and me. Then he startled. "Oh. Excuse me. You believe Gelus -- the entity that saved Misa -- watched her here, but could not see very well. So he came here physically for a better vantage point. Which would mean he would die and drop his notebook in the human world. You believe someone else took it first? This would explain why Rem waited so long to contact her. I agree. She'd have to kill the new owner to give it to Misa, so our scans of the notebook should be able to give us information if we know what we are looking for. Then we can see what that person may have done in that span of time. Good job."

Then he went back to staring off into space for a few seconds. Was he ready to go, was there something he thought I missed? Then he spoke. "It occurred to me. There are five people we know of who were killed by the Death Note and resuscitated. You, me, miss Amane, officer Taro Ogawa, and Light Yagami. You lost the life you were building shortly before your time of death. Misa lost her career and everything of her old life shortly before her time of death. Ogawa certainly cannot return to his life or career. Light Yagami lost the mantle of Kira, all of his schemes, and everything he had hoped to achieve a few days after his time of death.

"I wonder if it simply works differently based on gender."

### 
    
    
    * * *

Naomi had her problems, but who doesn’t? When she first came here she was all-business, and it took some prodding to get her out of her shell. I think she wanted us to think she was capable first and foremost; appearances mattered to her, at least her own. But she opened up once we got to know each other, and she was a smart, funny gal. Quick-witted, wry sense of humor, always wanted her on your side for team activities. The only one who didn’t see it was her, very self-deprecating. Raye got her to see what everyone else saw.

### 
    
    
    * * *

With someone who got into acting at Misa’s age, you would expect a pair of abusive stage parents. But that wasn’t the case. Misa was always trying to make them proud, but they clearly loved her no matter what. Even after her dad stopped managing her, she always kept them involved. Dad would do things when she didn’t know how, make sure she never failed and embarrassed herself. She declared she was going to pay for both of them and they’d never work again. We wondered when she would cut the apron strings, but... geez.

### 
    
    
    * * *

Raye was the best friend I had here. It’s still hard to feel like he’s gone. That’s the kind of person he was: he just felt like a rock-solid part of the world, something you could always depend on. Something that belonged there. That was his whole thing, he made people feel like they belonged, wherever they were. And if they thought they didn’t, well, there was SOME place they belonged, and they should go find it. He convinced me to transfer into anti-terrorism and I’ve never been more satisfied with my work. It’s hard to think he’s really gone.

### 
    
    
    * N A O M I *

//MAENO ASAHARU. ΑΥΤΟΚΙΝΗΤΙΣΤΙΚΌ ΔΥΣΤΎΧΗΜΑ.//

Maeno Asaharu used to work nights at the coin laundry that had a back door into Misa's alleyway. Until he left, and then died a few days later. The words after that are modern Greek for "Automobile Accident". That, and the fact no time of death or other details were listed, told us something: Rem was in the car with him when she decided to kill him. Unfortunately, the police weren't going to tell us where he died in a car accident, it wasn't in Osaka, and the other employees at his workplace didn't know either.

Hopefully his brother would. 

It was unlikely that Akira Asaharu was waiting at the door with a shotgun, but given that Maeno was almost certainly an open or private Kira supporter, there was a non-zero chance he had Death Note paper left by his brother and was paranoid about protecting it. I put my back to the wall and extended one hand to rap on his door with two knuckles, ready for a hostile response.

Ryuzaki, of course, just meandered up to the door, hands in his pockets, and peered into the peephole like he was looking for his keys. "Mr. Asaharu? Open up. We need to ask you some questions."

Well, he didn't get blown away. There was a grunt, the sound of empty beer cans clinking, and a man shuffling to and unlocking the door. Only once the door was open and Ryuzaki hadn't been shot did I expose my body. I bowed politely to the wiry, unkempt man who opened it, and I produced two cards.

//I have a condition called 'expressive aphasia'. This makes every word I say very difficult, like when you have the right word on the tip of your tongue but can't grasp it! I may cry sometimes when I have difficulty speaking, and though I don't mean to be rude, it's impossible for me to address others with the proper level of formality. I ask for your patience as we learn to communicate, but if we both try our hardest I know we can have a productive relationship!//

//My name is Shoko Maki, and this is my assistant Hideki Ryuga. I don't want to hurt or inconvenience you, but I think your brother had some things that were very important to me, and if it does not trouble you too much, I would like to ask some questions about his things.//

Akira dutifully read both cards, mouthing the words as he did. "I'm not THAT Hideki Ryuga," Ryuzaki mumbled. "My name is just Hideki Ryuga."

"Okay, so, she's looking for something? My brother might have had?" he asked Ryuzaki, who pointed over to me. "Oh, uh. You're looking for something my brother had?"

I shook my head yes, and Ryuzaki said "Yes, she is." I would have snapped at him for stepping on my toes and then I realized, god damn it, I did it too fast, I shook my head. I reached into my pocket and held up the first photograph in the pile without looking at it.

"Your... motorcycle? I'm sorry, Miss, he only had the bicycle and the car. He never owned a motorbike."

I flipped the photo over and looked embarrassed. Oh no, I grabbed the wrong picture! Of course, it wasn't a photo of a bike. It was a photo of Rem taken in Isezakicho that completely obscured a motorbike behind her. The only way Akira would be able to see the bike is if he hadn't touched //ARVC-5// while Rem owned it, and couldn't see Rem. 

A few photos of Rem got out, but since the only people who could see them were already there at the time, not much was made of them to the wider world. It was becoming a conspiracy theory anyway -- people who weren't there, people in America and Russia, started claiming to be able to see Rem as well. This would have some significant implications if not for the fact that the figure everyone is claiming to "see" looks absolutely nothing like Rem, and the people who were actually in Isezakicho seem to have been drowned out.

So I held up the second picture. "Oh, sorry. Your ring? Like, like is that an engagement ring?" We didn't have a picture of Ryuk standing in front of anything identifiable, just the shots from the security cameras. And if I cut out Ryuk and pasted it over something else in Photoshop, then someone who couldn't see Ryuk wouldn't see the thing I pasted over, they'd see what was behind Ryuk in the picture I cut him out of. So I was actually proud of this one. I got a shot of Ryuk against a blank white hall, and I zoomed it in so much on his hair it looked solid black. And then I clipped a picture of the engagement ring, a Gothic black rose motif ring with faux thorns on the band and a diamond in the center of the blossom, completely off its background and pasted it over Ryuk's hair. If you could see Ryuk, it didn't look like a ring, because it was black-on-black, and you just saw the diamond and rose -- it looked like a pin. He saw the ring, so he hadn't touched //ARVC-5// recently, after Ryuk took it over.

No Rem and no Ryuk meant he had never touched Death Note paper, unless he gained ownership of //ARVC-5// and then renounced it between his brother's death and Rem coming to Misa with the book. That was not likely. And he still hadn't touched it since. Okay. Step One of the investigation was complete and I hadn't even walked inside.

"Well, the place is a mess," he said with a nervous shuffle of his feet, "but I guess if you aren't here for too long, it's okay... Can I get you two a drink? I have, uh, some beers here..." Akira opened the door all the way and let us in. Indeed, the place was a mess. Trash on every surface, empty beer cans littering the carpet, a cat box that was clearly having more litter dumped on top of it instead of being emptied. I held my reaction in. It wasn't my place to scold him on keeping a messy home -- but Lord, I was not looking forward to having to search this place. 

"A glass of tap water would be fine, please," Ryuzaki said as we were taken to the cigarette-stained couch. Had to get the guy to turn his back to us. 

"Uh. Uh," I stammered, as low as I could. "And, ah, uh, Away. Away."

"Am I to understand that you want to give away possession of your Death Note?" Ryuzaki whispered. Slowly, very slowly, so I wouldn't have to say that again, I nodded. A cold tingle ran up my body, just for a second.

You didn't need a shinigami to give up the notebook -- it's just that, if a book had a shinigami attached, they were always there with the owner anyway. But if it was unowned, like all of ours were, someone else who touched the Death Note and knew what it was just had to specifically acknowledge you were giving up ownership. Easy. Now, when I looked at the photos, I would know if I have touched any Death Note paper because I'll see the shinigami again. None of my memories were impeded, either. I could toss ownership away and back again as many times as I needed to. Only when you've used the notebook to kill someone does it put its hooks in your, lay its claim on your soul, hoard your memories to be stolen away so it can keep its secrets.

Like with Misa. It had its hooks into her, even though she never committed murder with it. One set of memories she must never regain, shuffled around and discarded. One set she must never give up, that if she ever gained possession of the notebook again, would be in danger of lapsing. Misa, who the rules said would neither go to Heaven nor Hell, implying their existence. Is she consigned to oblivion? Is all of humanity? Why single out the users of the Death Note, then? If they neither go to Heaven nor Hell, do they go somewhere else? Somewhere worse? When that awful black notebook collects its claim on her soul, where will she be taken?

What kind of claim did it have on me? How deep did that stain go, to fill my mind with such terrible feelings and urges?

If only she had never met me. If only she hadn't gotten close, she would be fine. She would have stayed out of everything, she would have been fine, she wouldn't have been put in Kira's corona by her association with--

Stop that. Stop it. That doesn't make any fucking sense. The Second Kira used the notebook before I met her. I saved Misa and she tells me that all the time. Nothing about her situation is my fault. It's Rem's fault. It's Rem's fault for making the worst possible decision at every single opportunity, and she paid for her errors with her life. 

I swept away the crumbs from the coffee table and laid out two photographs: The ring, which I could see now, and the evidence photo of //ARVC-5//. That one wasn't a test, but we were looking for it. Akira came over with two glasses of tap water, no ice. He only had the one couch, so he sat down next to Ryuzaki to scrutinize the two pictures. "Yeah. I saw that notebook, but not the ring. Maeno had it. I had no idea what the thing on the cover stood for."

Simple question to ask him. Very easy. "Ah, uh. And, uh, and, touch?"

"Did you ever handle that notebook? Did he leave it around?" Ryuzaki interpreted. "We are looking for some pages that may have fallen out of it. They're important to resolving the estate of Hiraga Shohei, but were left with a load of laundry."

"I mean, he said I shouldn't touch it," Akira said, picking up the photo of the ring. "He said he had to give it back to its owner, but he held onto it for a few days, I saw." He put the photo back down and took a deep breath. "You know, I thought if you hadn't come yet, you never were. You guys work for L, right? This is about Kira?"

Okay, what?

"What makes you think that, mister Asaharu?" Ryuzaki asked without waiting for my input -- it was pretty obviously the thing to say.

"Well, because Kira was involved, wasn't he? Maeno saw something he shouldn't have." We didn't interrupt Akira, so he started talking, confiding.

"Okay, so, Maeno and me, we're not doing too well, right? Maeno used to be an engineer, but this guy stole his work and framed him for embezzling. Ruined his career. Ruined his life. He could barely get that job at the laundry place. So we were already not doing well. Then that one dude died in the alley behind the store, right? Healthy dude, heart attack, nobody knows why he was there or what he did, obviously Kira got him. Maeno said he never heard anything, but he started acting weird. Hinkey, you know. Had that notebook and kept it with him, wouldn't let me touch it. He was mumbling to himself a lot, too. I figured, I mean, having someone get murdered right next to where you work would do a number on anyone. So I gave him his space. He really seemed like he needed it."

Okay, so at that point he was being haunted by Rem, and he knew touching the notebook would render Rem visible. He didn't want to explain that to his brother. And he talked to Rem, but low enough that he could pass it off as mumbling to himself. 

"Then, a few days later. That guy who ruined his career, Dr. Aleksei? In perfect health, runs cross-country, all of sudden his heart stops beating for no reason. Dead, like that. Kira got him. And, like, he had it coming -- he was committing fraud, he was stealing, he was passing off other people's research as his own and getting them blacklisted so they couldn't object. However Kira found out, the guy totally deserved it. 

“But Maeno, he got REAL weird. He got real secretive, he would jump at the slightest noise. Sometimes he would get startled or react to something in a completely silent, motionless room. Stopped taking public transportation, only would drive around in Mom and Dad's old Civic, when he went out at all -- which was just for work. He started watching a lot of TV, like, news and discussion shows about Kira. Got real interested in that one actress, the one who was super pro-Kira, Misa Misa. Then he said he had a really important thing to do and he had to go meet someone. I kind of thought he was going to see Misa Misa, judging by his sudden interest. Didn't call for two days. Then the police called me and said he wrapped his car around a telephone pole in Roppongi. Died on impact, they said."

At this point, his relief at someone who would hear his story was giving way to sorrow at bringing up his brother's fate. "They, they said it was clearly an accident. But, but I know it couldn't be. Not with how careful and paranoid he'd been. He, he, he obviously saw something. I didn't, I didn't put it together at the time, but I should have. Kira killed someone by his workplace, and, and he must have seen something. Seen how it worked. But he didn't know if he should do anything about it, like, go to the police or L. Maybe Kira, maybe, maybe he killed Aleksei to tell him 'hey, stay on my side and I'll kill people who hurt you'. But that got too scary. So, so, he thought a bunch about it, and he was going to the police, and then Kira gave him a heart attack while he was driving." He took a big gulp of lukewarm tap water. "I told, I tried to tell the police. So they would pass it on up to L. But they said it was just an accident. They said they got way too many fake tips about Kira every day to bother L with. All they would say to me was that I had to go get his car out of impound, and I, I didn't even do that. I, I just... I mean, I was happy when you guys said you caught him. That you could do it without his, his information. But I just... I'm glad you came back. Glad you care about him. Someone did."

This was a lot more than either of us were expecting. Maeno's obvious changes in behavior gave his brother a lot of pieces to fit together. But we knew something he didn't -- Maeno didn't just see something, he had "Kira's power", the notebook. He used it to get revenge.

Just like I had.

The part of me that was still a cop, wasn't disillusioned, said it was wrong. That part was small and quiet. If what his brother said was true, revenge seemed damn reasonable. But what didn't seem reasonable was what he was probably doing in Tokyo: Kira was publicly tracked to the Kanto region. Maeno had Kira's power, used it, and then got super paranoid. And he was in Tokyo for two days before he died. He wasn't going to the police; like the Second Kira and just like I had suspected, Kira 1.5 had gone to Tokyo to find Kira himself. Maybe Rem didn't like what he planned to do. Maybe he was planning to take over for Kira. It's pointless to speculate by now.

But since there was no reason to forfeit his memories, it was unlikely Akira was lying. And he was distraught, torn up by it. No reason to hurt him further. I started to write him a note.

"Hmm. Interesting," Ryuzaki said. "Was the also the one who cleaned the apartment?" Hey, what the hell, that's not interpreting me.

"No, uh, we both did. I just... I haven't been okay. Since he died. I'm sorry." Akira looked down at his shoes, at the stains on the carpet.

I handed off my note to Ryuzaki. //ROOM HAVE? BROTHER// Ryuzaki just read it word for word, and stared up for a few seconds at Akira's uncomprehending face. "Hm. Oh. //DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR BROTHER'S ROOM?//

"No, no I cleaned it out. I tried to... get another renter... but it didn't work out. I went through his things, I thought, maybe he left a note or some evidence. But I didn't find anything. Not that ring, and not that notebook." He shook his head with regret, like it was some personal failing that there was nothing for him to find. "I'm sorry. I wanted there to be, if he left some evidence, I could tell the police..."

Slowly, tongue in my teeth, I nodded. This guy was definitely telling the truth, and what he thought was so close to the truth there was no point in deceiving him. Just a little nod, to let him know, I understood him. I started to write, and --

"I'm sorry," Ryuzaki said, "but we are just insurance adjusters. We've nothing to do with L." God damn it Ryuzaki, what the fuck happened to being my interpreter? "But it's an interesting story you told. Your brother wasn't a Kira supporter, was he?"

"What?" Akira was taken aback. "No, no! Nothing like that! We, neither of us really knew what to think about it, we weren't for or against back then!"

I held out my hands, the stress making it harder to find my words. "Ah, ah, uh, and, uh..." Goddamnit Ryuzaki, what's wrong with you?

"Hmm! If you say so. But then, if you knew your brother was going to Tokyo to try and find Kira -- because L publicly identified his location -- then you would want to act as though he was going to stop Kira. Because if he died during the commission of a crime, we'd take our money back, wouldn't we?"

God Dammit God dammit God dammit why are you so smug about this "Ah, ah, ah, uh, and, uh, and, and..." what happened to being my assistant and following my fucking lead?

"What? What are, no, no, that's crazy, he wasn't committing any crime--" Akira stammered.

"Conspiracy to assist a serial killer? You would have ample reason to cover that up," he said, leering with his hands on his pulled-up knees. "If you had something else, some other bit of evidence about his whereabouts, maybe you should tell us about it. We will be continuing to look into this matter, and it will look much better if you come clean."

I wanted to grab him by the face and scream 'What the fuck is wrong with you? That doesn't make any sense! In Japan individuals cannot by definition be guilty of criminal conspiracy, how the fuck do you not know that, why the fuck are you accusing this guy?' but I couldn't. So I just grabbed him by the face, pinching his teeth through his cheeks, and stared into his sunken, uncaring eyes. 

"I, I, I want you out of my home. I don't want to talk to you people any more," Akira said. He stood up and pointed to the door. "You can investigate me all you want. I don't want to let people into my home to call me a liar and call my dead brother an accomplice."

What other option did we have? There was no salvaging this. I grabbed Ryuzaki just like I'd grabbed BB, and I hauled him out of the room. The door slammed behind us. Behind it, Akira started crying. 

"Hmph," was all Ryuzaki could say. "You may be upset that I took the initiative, but it was the only way to ensure he was telling the truth. Without seeing his composure break, I wouldn't be able to rule out that he knew of the Death Note, but had taken care not to touch it. Let's go, we have what we need from him."

"Nnnngh!" I growled. That smug piece of shit! Why did he think he needed to insult the guy before we were done talking, piss him off, grind his thumb into the man's wound? Why the HELL would he have taken care not to touch the Death Note when the only rule making that dangerous was fake, not printed in //ARVC-5//, and he had no way of knowing about? What happened to following my god damn lead? What happened to reading a fucking room?

So many angered words I wanted to sling at him, they all jammed together, blockaded the narrow and broken path that language could escape my brain from. "Nngh, errrrr, uggh," and all I could get out was one word, the most important one. "Misa. Misa!"

GOD, what I wouldn’t do right then to have Misa there.

### 
    
    
    * * *

If every agent we had was of Naomi’s caliber we wouldn’t have needed a Kira in the first place.

### 
    
    
    * * *

Misa was an insecure prima donna. If anyone wasn’t praising her, she just kept doing more and more until they were.

### 
    
    
    * * *

Raye cared more about keeping victims safe and calm than he did about catching bad guys. I think that was his best quality.

### 
    
    
    * N A O M I *

Maeno wrapped his car around a telephone pole in Roppongi. They usually can't tow your car without your consent here, but they always take vehicles involved in crashes. There's not enough space in Tokyo for police impound lots at every station, so they're in pretty dense underground parking garages instead. If he crashed in Roppongi, no matter where, they would have taken the car to lot 5 here.

What we SHOULD have been doing was walking up to the entrance with the ticket they mailed his brother Akira, saying we're here to pay the fine and reclaim the vehicle, and getting it free and clear, also asking if they recovered any evidence from it and to return that to us too. Since he wasn't from Tokyo, we guessed he would have to take a list of any places he stashed the Note paper with him, so it would be in the glove box -- or, hopefully, the paper would just be in the glove box itself. They don't empty it when they impound your car. We'd be able to track down any spot he'd left supplies for Kira, and hopefully pick up clues to whatever his plan to aid Kira had been.

But Ryuzaki had pointlessly antagonized the guy's brother and got us kicked out. So we didn't have the claim slip. We didn't actually know what car we were looking for -- it was a Civic, the most common make in the world, and it had been 'wrapped around a telephone pole' which could have had any level of dramatic license ascribed to it. No model year, not even a color, and the cars here wouldn't be sorted by time they arrived. They wouldn't let us in to browse. I was going to have to fucking break in to the impound lot and look for a Civic with a staved-in front end. Can't even climb up the side and sneak in, because it's an underground lot. 

I had to break in through the god damn drainage sewer grate on the bottom level. At least it wasn't full of water. And at least getting into the G-Cans drainage tunnels isn't hard. They let tourists and photographers go all the time, they don't care. The cops in the impound lot would care, though. It was locked for a reason. 

I peeked around through the floor-level grate about as much as I could, while Ryuzaki unsteadily held me a step up. No sign of anyone. The rusty grate easily pushed out, and Ryuzaki lifted me up enough to get a handhold and pull myself out. Brushed myself off. Nobody around. Time to get to work.

"Okay, now pull me up," he whispered. The fuck? He had some unrealistic expectations about how this was going to go if he thought he was coming with me. He'd been nothing but a hindrance so far. I cared about actually finding any hidden cache of Death Note paper way more than his dumb fucking training test, so he wasn't going to screw it up. I shot a withering glare down to the grate below me and turned around to walk off.

"Naomi!" He didn't raise his voice to a shout, but he raised it, enough to know the threat was there. I stopped. Would he blow the operation out of petulance? "Naomi. I don't care that you think you are more effective alone. I trusted you and Misa with the Death Note, not just you, and I still inspected all your clothes. You have murdered two defenseless people in cold blood and show no remorse. I am not going to give you the possibility to find a piece of paper and conceal it on your person. You may not be able to write conditions, but you can write names. And I can’t let you do that. I am coming with you or this is not happening."

...

Fuck.

Fine.

I knelt down and extended my arm, and Ryuzaki pulled himself up through the grate. Brushed himself off and went back to moping with his hands in his pockets. The garage wasn't packed, only about a quarter of the spaces were filled. Time to look for our target.

It was weird to think that Ryuzaki saw Misa as the moral center between the two of us, given how Misa told me she had no sense of right and wrong and needed my help to be a better person. Minicar, no visible damage. I suppose that meant he wasn't just humoring us when he said the Second Kira was dead and Misa was a different person. Corolla, rear-ended. But was he wrong? I had only murdered one person and the only regret I had was I didn't murder the other one. A Fit, smashed front end. But it wasn't really murder... it was revenge. It was right, as justified as killing those cop-cultists who were trying to kill us. You get to defend yourself. You get to make yourself someone that other people can't just hurt without consequences. Prius, no visible damage. But I obviously could never make him understand that even if I could talk. And maybe he was right. 2005 Yamaha YZF600R, back wheel missing. My awful sex dream was right about one thing: Misa was a very, very intelligent ditz. Thought in ways other people didn't. Maybe that was what the new L needed. 

Corvette, sideswiped, passenger door crushed. Raye wasn't a big "car guy" and what he was didn't rub off on me much, but even I felt like I ought to regard that as some kind of tragedy.

The cops could solve crimes that get solved with regular-ass police work, like they should be, and then Misa as L would only be called in for weird stuff. Stuff that required you to think outside the box, that normal police skills didn't help with. Some other kind of minicar. With all of L's Illuminati money, she could surround herself with her friends and make sure they were taken care of. Have lots of people who loved her, lots of emotional support to keep any kind of dark side from resurrecting. 2002 Suzuki GSX1300R, ruptured fuel tank, rider must have flipped over. And I could just sort of... fade away. Be her bodyguard to begin with, teach her to keep herself safe, teach her to not be so dependent on me, to be a healthier independent person who wouldn't need any kind of metaphorical or literal control from me. Then I would disappear, and she'd be sad, but strong enough to get over me quickly.

I don't even know any more if that's what I feel or not. 

"Here we go," Ryuzaki said at the same time I noticed it. Black Civic. Staved in front end, as if from an impact with a cylindrical object. He let me step forward to do the job. The driver's side door was left open but I couldn't access the rest of the car from it; the passenger window was intact, so I couldn't just reach in and unlock the car. But the impact had dented the frame enough that the top of the door wasn't flush. Wouldn't be using the coat hanger for this one: wedge open the top of the door with a screwdriver, giving myself more clearance. Telescope out the telescoping rod. Angle it in the propped open door... whap, whap, whap against the inside of the door, until I tapped the lock, and pushed it into the unlocked position. Easy. Door opened up with no problems. Ryuzaki nodded approvingly, like he had anything to do with it.

This might not even be the car, and it might not even have anything in it. But it was a chance, for now. Making sure Ryuzaki could see everything my hands were doing, I leaned over and popped open the glove box. Driver's manual. What looked like prescription slips. Flashlight. 

A few pages of lined notebook paper, folded into eighths, and on top of that one sheet that was unfolded. This could be it. I took them out -- making sure Ryuaki could see me -- and rolled down the base of my latex glove to expose a bit of my wrist. Tap. Pull the pictures from my pockets, and... Yup. I saw the ring, but Rem was standing in front of the bike. Bingo. So the shinigami it gave you vision of was the one who owned it at the time the page was ripped out, good to know. There was writing on both sides of the sheet.

One thing written on the front side. //АЛЕКСЕЙ ТРУТНЕВ WILL GET WHAT HE FUCKING DESERVES.// That was the kill. No other names here, but there could be more on the other pages. Trutnev died of a heart attack in the middle of his routine, nothing special. So it looks like the Death Note has no concept of just deserts, as if we needed any more evidence of that.

On the back, a list of addresses. These had to be the places he was going to stash the sheets to help Kira. We just had to check this list of places.

//4-CHOME-7-1 ROPPONGI, MINATO-KU 106-0032 (BETW. NANBANTEI / YELLOW WIND IZA)

4-CHOME-18-19 AKASAKA, MINATO-KU 107-0052

3-CHOME-15-20 TAKANAWA, MINATO-KU 108-0074

2-CHOME-1-1 KASUMIGASEKI, CHIYODA-KU 100-8929//

The first address on the list was the only one he got directions to, and he didn't live here and didn't know where the addresses were, so it was the only place he could have stashed anything for Kira before Rem killed him. 

Wait a second.

I've been to 2-Chome-1-1 Kasumigaseki. That's the headquarters of the National Police Agency. Why would he want to hide Death Note paper at the headquarters of the NPA, when he had no idea Kira was involved in his own investigation? Were the other addresses...

Police stations. He started in Roppongi, for who knows what reason. Roppongi, then Akasaka, then Takanawa, and if that didn't work, go up to the NPA itself.

Because he wasn't stashing material to help Kira. He took revenge, he killed the man who ruined his life. But he didn't go mad with power and join Kira's crusade. He became secretive and crazy because what he'd done, what he had the power to do, scared the living shit out of him. He was torn up, that's why he got reclusive. He was obsessed with people talking about Kira because he didn't know what the right thing to do was. 

But he came to a decision. He was going to give the info to the police, to hand up to L. He was conflicted, and once he arrived in Tokyo, he had second thoughts. He didn't know what the right thing to do was. But he came to a decision. He was going to do it. And once he got actual directions to the police station, and he brought the pages he could touch the cops with to see Rem, it was obvious that his course of action was set. So that was when Rem killed him. Not because he would take the spotlight from Kira, or muck up his plans by introducing another point of vulnerability -- because he was actively trying to give information to L that would help him catch Kira. Rem didn't want Misa's hero to be caught.

How did I not see that? How was I so bitter, so fixated, so god damn sure of myself that I thought he must have been a Kira worshipper? I turned back to Ryuzaki...

Ryuzaki was steadying himself against the car, other hand on his forehead, pushing back his hair. "It was here. It was right here," he muttered. "I didn't... It didn't occur to me. I never would have looked if I wasn't on this phony practice case. Those sheets of paper would have been sitting here, unaccounted for, until someone, someone emptied the car out to take it to the scrapyard, and then who knows what they could have done with so many sheets..."

He started swaying on his feet, leaning harder into the car to keep steady. He gasped, once, twice, loud, starting to hyperventilate. His other hand went from his forehead to clutch his chest. "I can't... I can't... Hhhhhh... I didn't... I couldn't... Hfffff..." His gasping grew louder, echoing through the concrete room. "Heart... Heart..."

I heard an engine starting up, upstairs. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. Someone was coming. Ryuzaki wasn't having a heart attack -- the only thing he was at risk of after his treatment would be aneurysm, which would have him screaming in pain instead of gasping for air; DCA won't leave you with a lingering risk of stopping your heart and he'd just had all his cardiac tissue and major arteries inspected while the docs were poking around in there. His bill of health was clean and he made a full recovery. Ryuzaki was having a panic attack. And he was making a lot of noise while someone was about to come down here to investigate. God damn it, what do you do for a panic attack? You have to get them to calm down, but how? 

God damn it, Ryuzaki, if you were emotionally on edge this badly, if seeing something like this was enough to push you over the edge to a full blown panic attack, why the hell did you try to pretend like you were cool and detached and indifferent? I could have HELPED, or at least we could have done things differently, I wouldn't have been as mad at you if I'd known you were --

Son of a bitch that's the same thing I've been doing isn't it.

Well, now is a really lousy time to reflect on a personal lesson. Now I needed Ryuzaki calm and quiet before we got discovered. There weren't enough cars around us for dense cover, so I grabbed him by the mouth, and pulled him toward the wall, hidden behind the Civic. His eyes were wide with pure terror. Fuck, okay, okay, I'm covering his mouth to stop the noise, that can't be helping, what do I do, what do I say...

He batted at me fruitlessly, clutched at his chest as I set himt o lay on the ground. "Sssh. Sssh!" I hissed at him. "Nnnn... Nngh, scare!"

Rolling of tires got closer. He still looked like a caged animal. Arrgh, that wasn't the right word, he thought I was talking about scaring me or other people! Calm down. Can't use any words if you don't calm down. Can't have two people panicking. I took a slow, deep breath through my nose, and I hoped he would follow suit. Held it. Slowly exhaled. I held up my finger, and I tapped his chest, right where he was grasping for. "Good." His heart was fine. He wasn't dying. He was having a panic attack. I made sure his wide, terrified eyes locked with mine. Another deep breath through the nose. Hold it. Slowly exhale.

His eyes didn't get any more relaxed, but he nodded. I think he got it. I took another breath, and this time he mimicked me. Got about halfway through it before he started nose-gasping again. Okay. Okay. Baby steps. Calm down. The tow truck is rumbling through the level above us right now. We can be fine. Breathe with me, Ryuzaki. In through your nose... hold it... out.

He needed to calm down. What else could I do, without being able to talk? I grabbed his hand. I laced his fingers into my gloved... no. I grabbed the base of the glove with my teeth and yanked it off. I laced my bare fingers into his. His hands were trembling, so cold. I squeezed. Ryuzaki, you're a fucking prick, but I am here for you. Maybe not even just because I don't want you to alert the cops. Ryuzaki, you idiot, if you weren't trying so hard to act like nothing was wrong maybe someone could help you try to fix what was wrong. Imagine how Misa would feel, hell, she probably feels it now, with no idea what's going on inside you. You stupid fucking idiot, how could you think that was a good idea?

All right, brain, I deserved that.

Breathe in, hold, breathe out. Breathe in, hold, breathe out. I shifted myself until I was sitting cross-legged. Then, slowly, no startling motion, I pulled Ryuzaki up until he was sitting in my lap. He was doing the full breaths, keeping up the timing with me. Breathe in, hold, breathe out. Breathe in, hold, breathe out. I guided his hand up to his mouth, and pulled mine away so he could cover himself. He bit into it, but it worked. Breathe in, hold, breathe out. He probably didn't even hear the truck turning the corner to arrive on this level, and he didn't need anything else to panic about. I laced my fingers into his other hand, and I held him across the chest. And I sort of rocked, gently. Like a mother with a child. Like someone with someone else who was panicked and lonely and desperate and didn't know what to do and didn't know who they were and needed to know someone was here for them even if that person had her own problems she was trying to hide. 

The tow truck rolled past us without a glance. I got ready to scooch to the side to stay hidden, but it went to the other side of the lane, toward the Corvette. Back and forth. Breathe in, hold, breathe out. Two people hopped out and started hitching the car up. "Yeah, it's a beautiful car, I agree," said one of them. "The damage looks bad, but I don't think it's going to cost that much. That body shop will take care of you. Nobody will even know it’s a replacement."

Ryuzaki could hear them now, I felt him tremble, but he didn't cry out. Kept biting his hand. Squeezing my grip. Inhale. Back. Hold. Forth. Exhale. The Corvette was hooked up with little difficulty. Inhale. Back. Hold. Forth. Exhale. Squeeze. They were climbing back into the cab of the truck, and it looked like we were clear, when

VAP-VWIP!

I got a text message. We both stopped breathing altogether.

//From MISA^2 at 1:53 PM: LOVE YOU!//

The two men stopped and looked up at the sound. Then it came again. VAP-VWIP!

//From MISA^2 at 1:53 PM: YOU ARE AWESOME//

My fault for not turning off text message alerts.

"The hell was that?" asked one man.

"Eh, someone getting a text message," the other replied. "If people leave their phones in their cars we don't take them out. Batteries can last a while. Not our problem. C'mon, let's get out of here." And they got back into the truck.

I thought we were made. Thought we were done for. But it wasn't a problem at all. Both of us started to breathe again.

I still waited until the truck was back on the top level, until the way was totally clear for us to get back into the grate, to text back //To MISA^2 at 1:58 PM: ALSO//.


	3. Kissing on the Teeth

//A beautiful romance comes from an unlikely place!

[FIND A PICTURE FROM L'S CAPTIVITY, DON'T USE A STILL FROM THE SECURITY CAM UNLESS YOU HAVE TO]

After the Second Kira died, Misa Amane still had a lot of learning and growth to go through! Imprisoned for the safety of the world, she was lonely and afraid. Naomi was lonely and grieving. They hated each other when they met, but soon, they would discover a growing connection, and Naomi's kindness and protection would open the door to Misa's heart!

Interrogations were mixed with heart-to-heart conversations, music sessions, and anime viewings as the bindings loosened! Fear turned to trust and affection!

[MIGHT BE TOO CRAZY? DOES IT SOUND ROMANTIC OR CULTY?]//

### 
    
    
    * M I S A *

Ugh.

Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh.

I was on the plane for 12 hours. It was first class, but I was still surprised we took an ANA flight and not a private jet like last time. I guess we didn't have to sneak in a magical supergun this time, and private jets with celebrities crash under mysterious circumstances all the time. I read all the manga I brought and the in-flight movie was "Heart of Hands," which I was not only in but was also terrible, so that was just weird. I tried to sleep, but I can't really sleep with glasses on that are made of actual glass, so when I woke up to use the bathroom I wasn’t wearing the special filter glasses and I saw I was sitting across from //YURIKO YOMAMATA 59456035//. And... I suppose I'll have to get used to that, eventually. If the Second Kira could, and she was weak and hollow, I definitely could too. But I wasn't used to it yet, and seeing someone’s time to death coming freaked me out, so, I stayed awake with my glasses safely on the rest of the flight.

So I was awake most of the flight. And as far as I was concerned, on normal time, it was 3 AM. So that was why the moment we got into the safe house I flicked my glasses off and just fell forward on my face into the guest bed. Unfortunately for me, California insisted it was 11 AM, and the sun was shining, and most places wouldn't even let you order breakfast any more. And Watari was going to be all up on me about it.

"Miss Amane." Yup. I knew it. "Get up. You will adjust to the jet lag much better if you engage in activity until it's time to sleep here."

"We're sorry, Misa Amane isn't here at the moment," I monotoned. "Please leave a message at the sound of the beep and she will get back to you as soon as she is able."

"Miss Amane, I must..."

"Sssh, sssh. It didn't beep yet."

I wouldn't say being exhausted feels good. And I have experience, sometimes you have to stay on set way too late, and people are way more willing to do that once you turn 18 and it's not technically illegal any more. Being exhausted feels awful. But being exhausted and lying in bed, that feels really good. You can feel it, like, seeping out of your arms and legs. The exact state of "I need to go get the remote but I reeeeeeally don't want to get up" is one of the best you can have. The universe is big and confusing and scary and random but you know exactly where you belong in it, and that place is what feels like the hundred-kilometer-deep indentation your body makes in the memory foam. You feel warm without a blanket because you're so perfect where you are turning over to pull a blanket over yourself is just too much. You close your eyes, and you don't just see black, your sense of vision completely turns off. Because you don't need it.

what a relief I mean not as much as having my blood sucked out relieving that pressure and anxiety and pain and replacing it with cool certainty but it's still pretty good you know maybe when I'm feeling anxious about Naomi I should just stay awake for 26 hours and then collapse into bed and go aaaahhhhhhhhhh or you know what maybe I could get her to suck my blood WHILE I was laying facedown exhausted or would that make it better or cancel out maybe the first pain would like wake me up but maybe I'd be so relieved I would melt into a puddle so we'd need to get one of those plastic covers to keep me from soaking into the fabric so she can put me into a Misa ice cube tray and put me in the freezer to solidify but would that like reset the timer on recovering from hypothermia would I get watered down oh you know what I could get a waterbed like I always wanted one when I was a kid but like you grow up and nothing is stopping you from getting one but you still feel like it's something you can't just do but I can totally do it or we can totally do it actually I guess I was right the first time since I have to ask Naomi if she wants one but I can totally do that and if she says yes then I'm gonna make Ryuzaki buy it with his L expense account because I need it for my job and

"Miss Amane. Please."

Uuuuuuuugghh. He's not going to let me sleep, is he? I rolled over to yell at him and -- wait, when did I take off my boots, why is there a blanket on me? I looked around. The sun had moved, it was mid-late afternoon, maybe? He must have let me sleep for a few hours, and now he had a box of pizza. "Oh. Well. Okay then. I feel better.” I sat up and pulled off the covers. “What's for dinner? I hope it's from a chain place." He arched an eye at me. "Because, you know, if there's like super good authentic pizza places in America, I want Naomi to show them to me."

"Ah. Well, don't worry. I got a regular pizza from a national chain," he said, and presented me with the box. I dunno if 「Settebello Pizzeria Napoletana」 was English or like Italian but I could read the 'pizzeria' part. He opened up the box and presented a small pie with blotches of tomato and cheese, little leafy twiggy bits, and burned parts on the crust. Must have been a real greasy spoon place. I gestured for a napkin, and laid it on top to blot up excess fat. I might not have been a model any more but I wasn't going to give up, and pizza grease wasn't on the meal plan. "Bon appetit, Miss Amane. I suggest you get as much energy as you can. It is now 10 AM JST; to reset your Circadian rhythm, you will not be returning to sleep until tomorrow evening."

The pizza slice cracked when I tried to fold it over, but I shoved it in my mouth anyway. "Mmmph. This cheese is great, but it's like on a cracker." I could get used to it, though. "So, uh, what are we going to be doing tonight, while everyone else is asleep?" 

"Tomorrow we will acquire the records of miss Misora's cases and postings. For today, I have obtained some similar documents and converted them to Japanese with translation software." He daintily picked up a slice, hand protected by a napkin, and broke off the tiniest bite. "Though you will learn English, you won't speak every language, and will need to learn to identify the quirks of machine translation. Once we get the files, we'll go over who she worked with and where, and how to assign our subordinates and what to investigate ourselves." He paused. "So tonight, we'll also cover how to enlist and employ subordinates."

"Good! Then we see who worked with her the most and on the most important stuff, and we interview those guys, and we send out contractors to talk to dudes who only like saw her twice just to see if they have anything out of the ordinary. And we probably ask around at work to find out who her friends were outside of work. Right?" I fidgeted on the edge of the bed a bit. "But, uh, you know. She was engaged to that guy. Uh. You know, the guy... Raye?" Act nonchalant. Totally offhanded thing. Not something you were thinking about a lot. "We probably need to review his stuff too."

"We will acquire mister Penber's files as well," he said with a bit of smug confidence. "I'm aware of your ulterior motive, miss Amane."

"Pfft! You are?" I spat crackery crust crumbs all over myself. "You uh, you don't think it's... maybe a little crazy?"

"It's perfectly sane," he said, magnanimously ignoring the crumbs on his knees. "Though training you is important, your little plan is the true reason we've come here. L cannot have any distractions. We've seen what happened when L was consumed with personal traumas. If Naomi is to succeed L, then you will succeed me. My job is to make L's job as smooth as possible. Every distraction, every hiccup, every component of investigation that does not interest L, must be taken care of as far from her perception as possible. Every problem she does not wish to solve herself, must appear to have been solved long ago. And everything that takes her mind from her investigation must be kept far from her."

"Oh! Well, that's good, then." It was! Watari thought it was a good idea and that dude really knew his stuff, that was a relief. "I really wanna help her out. And make sure she isn't so sad." And make sure she never leaves me or gets bored of me or starts liking guys again but don't say that part.

"Laudable." He sat there with his slice for a bit. "You know, Miss Amane, I think you do not give yourself enough credit. I find you to be a very intelligent person. Unfortunately, your intelligence is not very intelligent."

I had no idea if that was an insult or not.

"You think quickly, but follow circuitous paths to arrive at conclusions. You notice many details but don't know which are important. Your means of reasoning are not what other people would use; your habits of memory are unusual. But the raw material, the potential is there." He took a nice long sip to punctuate himself. "I am certain that you can be trained, you can be molded into a perfect attache."

"Great! Let's get started, then!

"...after we finish the pizza, let's get started.

"...after we finish the pizza and have some tea and maybe a little dessert, let's get started."

### 
    
    
    * * *

//Love conquers all! Boo on the evil exes!

Before Misa and Naomi's love could defeat evil, first they had to overcome their evil ex-boyfriends!

LIGHT YAGAMI

[Light_Yagami_First_Victim_Since_Ki[...].jpg]

\- Utter sociopath  
\- Mass murderer  
\- Narcissist  
\- Manipulative  
\- Backstabber  
\- Delusions of godhood  
\- No remorse or empathy  
\- One of the five worst human beings to ever live

Light plotted to rule the world as a charnel God and murder everyone who stood in his way, and Misa, at her most desperate and vulnerable and hopeless, fell right into his sinister grasp and became a different, evil person! He was going to use the Second Kira to carry out his evil will and wring her out into nothing! But with Naomi's love, she saw a way to be a real human being, and not a puppet of Kira, because her life mattered too! Now every day, Misa is becoming a better person! Misa and Naomi: 1, Light: 0!

RAYE PENBER 

[fed-ca-losang-penberr.jpg]

\- Sexist  
\- Racist  
\- Going to die soon, probably in a drug deal gone wrong  
\- Obsessed with Texas cows  
\- Cheated at fantasy football -- cheated on Naomi?  
\- Slacked off at work, would slack off as husband  
\- Keeps women in kitchen, barefoot and pregnant

When Naomi was wracked with doubt over the worst case of her life, the evil Raye loomed over her, promising to make her pain go away if he could just suffocate her and her gifts to the world, locking her away forever. Though Naomi was grief-stricken by his death, it became the best opportunity of her life, because 

then he met Mi? puhing y too hrd

becue no he believe in her bilitie

kno more bout the orld?

ELLY d. omber viepoint?

omber in't good

It became the best opportunity of her life, because//

### 
    
    
    * M I S A *

"Good morning!" I said, and bowed politely. "My name is Aiko Maru, a Japanese attaché to the Kira investigation, and I am here to double-check some information relating to the employment of miss Naomi Misora and mister Raye Penber." 

But Watari didn't translate what I said to the director guy, an American guy in maybe his forties or fifties with a very nice tailored suit and like subtly frosted tips. He just looked at me. "Miss Maru. Do not speak to me. I am a translator. Look at him." 

Ugh, okay, lesson learned, but you could have tried to not make me look like a jackass. I rotated to the side, faced the director dead on, and bowed again. "Ah, my apologies! I am not used to working with an interpreter." At least, not when I wasn't doing it. Watari translated that, and went on long enough that he must have been doing my introduction too.

The guy gestured for me to take a seat, and Watari kept standing. He half-sat, half-fell into his chair, so hard the office chair wheeled backwards like half a meter. He leaned back, sighed in satisfaction, and started talking. According to Watari, he said "Good morning, miss Maru. My name is Director Harold van Meer." I could tell what part was his name but I could still only catch half of it. People speak English too fast. "Please, make yourself at home. Most of my employees have taken off time for the holiday, but those of us who are here will assist you in any way we can. Would you like a cup of coffee? Don't look at me, miss Maru, look at him." He didn't say that last part, Watari did. I shook my head at the offer -- one, I prefer tea, and two, I already had some tea, to three, wash down a handful of pep pills and I didn't want my heart to explode from an overdose.

He shrugged at me and took a long slurp from his own paper cup. "So. I must ask, before you begin. Does this mean the government has officially acknowledged she survived? We've seen photos of her, but the United States still maintains she is dead." Wait. Good thing he couldn't recognize ME in my wig and fake eyebrows. 

"Oh, Naomi lived," I said, hands folded in my lap politely. "She suffered expressive aphasia from her near-death experience, so it is difficult for her to communicate, and the pressures of the Kira investigation kept her from contacting you. When she returns to the States, I'm certain she will speak to you all personally."

Watari spoke, and then he relayed back, "Dealing with that has been very frustrating so far. Shall we get to your business?" only no, that was wrong, that definitely wasn't what he said at all. I stood up and waved for Watari to follow me out to the hall. Harold looked surprised.

"You didn't tell him, did you?" I hissed the moment we left the office. "That's not how someone responds when you tell them their friend is alive."

Watari took a deep breath, making a show of how calm he was. "No, I did not tell him. Miss Naomi will rely on secrecy as L. She must be considered dead by the world."

"That's dumb!" I shot back. "These people worked with her, they're her friends, they deserve to know she's okay and not get jerked around like that! It's not right to lie to them because of some secrecy nonsense."

This one was a full-on sigh of condescension. "Miss Amane. By your own admission, you have no sense of right and wrong. Wouldn't you agree that it is safer, at least for now, to defer to my judgment?"

"Hey! I am working on getting one of those!" I said in self-defense but by now I was flushed with embarrassment. Good thing nobody else here spoke Japanese. I hoped. But he was right. Someone who became the Second Kira without much resistance can't just go 'I'mma break the rules now because I think this is wrong.' That was what SHE did. I averted my gaze, and Watari knew he'd won the argument. I pulled out my phone as he ushered me back to the office, looking just a bit smug. I was just going to go consult my moral center with a quick message, and... sent. 

Wait. Crap. It was like 1 AM there, wasn't it. That was my bad. Not looking good for the whole "super capable assistant who makes everything go right" role.

Harold looked kind of smug when we came back in. I mean, considering the question he asked before we hurried out of the room, it wasn't hard to figure out what was going on. The rest of the meeting didn't have much of note: our paperwork checked out, we can talk to whoever we like as long as they aren't busy, yada yada. Watari went down to records to get case files and stuff. I had some sneaking to do.

Naomi quit, amicably, the better part of a year before Raye's death. Probably had a going-away party where they gave her a watch, but she hadn't been there long enough to earn the gold one, so they gave her like a plastic Hello Kitty watch or something. So she cleaned out her desk and left, and it got reassigned to someone else. But Raye died in the line of duty, unexpectedly and tragically. Should I feel bad about that? I feel like I should. But it would be safer to feel bad about it once Naomi got over him, so like, I'd pick up the grief baton from her or something. Anyway, he not only died tragically in the line of duty, but then a few months later there were rumors Naomi lived, which meant maybe he lived too. Nobody wanted to clean out his desk. It was just like he left it last year.

So I could search it. Maybe, I dunno, find something incriminating.

The main thing was his computer, which I couldn't get into and couldn't read anyway. But he had other stuff. One picture of him and Naomi, at some kind of party with red plastic cups and really really bad red-eye, taped to his monitor. One framed picture of just Naomi on the desk, like a glamour shot, where she was showing off her leather jacket. Maybe he bought it for her? Okay, he had pics of his girlfriend on his desk. That's normal. He also had a pic of an old white guy and an old Japanese lady, his parents, but those weren't really salient.

I looked around. His desk was kind of off in a corner and not many people were in the office, so nobody could see me. I lowered my green filter glasses. //NAOMI MISORA 60691674// and //RAYE PENBER 22947579//. If 10,000,000 shinigami days is a bit under 8 years, he had like 16? Naomi had 48 or so. So he wasn't going to like die right away, but he was going to die a lot earlier than Naomi. Maybe he was going to get shot. Maybe she shouldn't be all that sad because in the grand scheme of things she wasn't missing THAT much time with him?

I grabbed both of those pics and put them in my evidence purse, like I could stop anyone else from seeing them. 

His coffee mug had really nasty grubbed-on stains inside it, because there was some coffee in it when he left and they left it untouched for a year. It had the outline of the shape of Texas on it -- I can recognize that one just fine. I gather Texas is kind of like the Osaka of America. You know, they are American and proud, and they talk the same language and salute the same flag and have the same holidays and all that, but they're also super proud of their own food and their own land and their own dialect and history and culture like if they HAD to be a separate country they could pull off the change in like a month. 

Anyway the other side of his mug had like a super low-rez American flag on it with only one star and one red and one white stripe. Same flag was on his mouse pad. Maybe that's a "Simple America" thing? Like an old, classic America to hearken to, where women couldn't vote and black people couldn't do anything? That would be some dirt on him. Probably not though. Their director was probably gay. Not that I have a problem! I mean come on, I'm a performing artist, it's hard not to meet a bunch of gay guys. Also I'm at least half-gay! Maybe he had like pointers. But the point is you wouldn't have that kind of stuff out where people could see it if it was like the American version of the uyoku dantai black van guys.

He had a couple of those bobblehead doll things too, with those Eyeshield 21 American football helmets. That's super patriotic. I wrapped those up in my special evidence-cradling bubble wrap and bagged 'em. His phone had a bunch of quick-dial buttons with text I couldn't read, so I took a picture. The other agents must have taken his paperwork off the desk because that was still like active cases. Okay. Is anything out of place here, before I move on? It's pretty clean, except for these scuff marks near the front... Ooh! I know what that is! The scuff marks were where his feet would go if he put his feet up on the desk. And his phone was cordless so he could put his feet up while talking on it. That was a pretty good deduction. Okay, time for the drawers. 

Lots of ballpoint pens that looked empty, and wouldn't write when I scribbled them on my own notepad -- oh, and here's a scratch pad with his scribbles on it, and a bunch of little divots where you test a pen that doesn't write. Why did he put them back in the desk when they didn't work? Maybe there was... no, there wasn't, because I also do that all the time. At least now I know I'm not the only one. Tape dispenser. Box of paper clips, and then a pretty long paper clip chain. Black triangular clamp clips, all chomped onto each other in pairs. Normal office supply stuff. What's in the side drawer here? I mean, if he was strangling cats and hiding them in his desk someone would smell it by now, but there could be something.

This looked like a schedule book. Brown, with the silhouette of a cow head on it. 「Texas Longhorns」 so Texas... Texas somethings. Texas Cows. Below that, a really thick paperback with really thin pages, 「Stephen King: The Stand」. There were two guys fighting with swords in a desert on it so it wasn't a reference book. And below that, a English to Japanese phrasebook. Looked like only English to Japanese, not the other way around. His Japanese wasn't that good because he was born American, so, so he was faking it to impress Naomi! It was... something?

Okay, now, the spy thing to do is I lay out the pages of the planner and I take pictures so... damn it! I have to leave this place how I found it, don't I? I already took a bunch of stuff, but if I'm a super assistant evidence getter, I can't leave a trail. Okay. Take out the pictures again. Zoom in on THOSE with my cool new digital camera, so it's like I'm just making a copy of the pic, and there we go. And the old tape is brittle and won't stick again, so, we take a liiiiittle scotch tape from his dispenser... okay so we take a sliiiightly longer piece of tape from his dispenser, and attach it to the monitor, where there's a streak where there's no dust. And then we take the Naomi pic, and we photograph that... No, the glass makes too much of a glare. So I bent the little pin back, and I took it out of the frame so I could copy that, then I put it back in, and put it back where I found it. And then I unwrapped the special evidentiary bubble wrap seal, the bobbleheads were fine, I put them back in the little circles they made in the layer of dust...

Crap! I smeared around some dust on the desk when I flipped the picture frame down, so now there's a square. Maybe I can pick up the dust balls that accumulated... it's the same amount of dust, I guess, so I crumbled it back where it came from, but then it was obviously stirred up. So then I grabbed a handful of dust bunnies that were UNDER the desk, and I crumbled THOSE up and spread them over the desk like grated Parmesan. Now the whole thing looked even, at least. I had to take pictures of the schedule book by laying it on the chair and kneeling next to it, so I wouldn't mess up my handiwork. But things were mostly back to the way I found them. 

I had a couple things, he was pretending to be better at Japanese than he was, and he was gonna die way before her. But I felt like there wasn't a linchpin, a big thing that ties everything else together, and nothing I could both find and read here that set off any huge alarms. Oh, maybe -- nope, no false bottom to the drawers. Maybe it's something about how it's laid out, the whole package together? 

Okay, Misa, you're an actress, you get into character. Use your superhuman Watari-tier acting skills and get into character as Raye and see if you feel sinister or anything. So I took off my shoes, swiped my hand over my face, I leaned back in the chair, and put my feet up. Well, only the very tips of my toes so I wouldn't stir the dust I worked so hard on. Good thing nobody could see me. No, wait, I moved his chair, the carpet divots were over here, so this was where he sat. My feet actually reached the desk, so he must have been leaned back real far to put only his feet there and not his whole leg. Okay. I'm Raye, I'm at my desk. What am I doing? I'm... no, wait, here, I'm Raye, I have my phone here, I'm leaned way back, I'm very casual, I don't care about my work or doing a good job and am just slacking off...

So his phone was on the other side of the desk, and the pictures were on the far end, and his computer keyboard was too far back for him to touch while leaning back in his chair unless he had gibbon arms. So he leaned forward to use the computer. But the other stuff was either in my arm's reach, or close enough it would be in his. Okay, I'm Raye, I'm at the computer tippy tap tap tap, nothing unusual. My body language has to be oriented and alert to reach it. And now I'm Raye, I'm on the phone, blah blah blah, I'm super casual.

I'm bored, that's what I am. I'm flicking the head of my bobblehead guys, and I'm pulling out paper clips and chaining them together and going "uh-huh uh-huh uh-huh uh-huh". I have a big book for when absolutely nothing is going on. So as Raye, it's not that I don't care about work, it's that I don't like being on the phone. Being on the phone is boring and my mind wanders. 

Man. Raye didn't seem like an evil guy. Or like a super heroic agent either. He seemed like... just a guy. A normal dude. He liked American football and he liked Texas and he probably liked American football from Texas and he liked his fiancee and he was okay working on the computer but didn't like talking on the phone for long periods. 

I probably should feel bad for him. Even though it wasn't, like, safe. I may not have much of a sense of right and wrong but I have a little bit and a normal regular guy who does his job getting killed for nothing was wrong and it was really sad. It wasn't even like I could say he deserved it for trying to take Naomi away from me! He was there first. They seemed happy. 

...Maybe he was strangling cats at home and chucking them into a trash bin.

"Miss Maru," Watari said behind me out of nowhere.

"Gah!" I replied as I gracefully fell backwards out of the chair.

### 
    
    
    * * *

//The Misadome: Stronghold of Justice!

[2007-10-12-f3-cleared.jpg]

Located at 2-chōme-6 Kanda Awajichō in bustling Chiyoda-ku, Tokyo, the Headquarters of the Kira Special Investigative Team went by many names -- Investigation HQ, Site Primary, Casa de L, the pLaza -- but after the heroic efforts of Team Misa (feat. Naomi), those in the know would call it the Misadome! They were mostly joking, but it still was pretty cool.

The Misadome was a fully staffed and fully stocked high-rise headquarters, with a movie theater, print shop, laundromat, extensive physical therapy facilities, and the best cheesecake ever to grace mortal tongues! It was here that Naomi helped not simply to nurse Misa back to health, but make her a stronger person! At first, by accompanying her to her physical therapy, but then, accompanying each other to their rooms to share emotionally intimate moments! It was here that the heroines discovered the evil plans of Kira and made to put a stop to them!

Patisserie: 11/10. Movie theater: Second Run. Favorite Non-Naomi Investigator: Matsuda//

### 
    
    
    * M I S A *

"Are you ready, miss Amane? I have with us your first test."

I was, by the way, back at the safe house. Laying on the bed on my stomach, with a laptop and writing surface and pens splayed out around me. Only 6 PM, but man, was I ever tired.

He dropped a stack of manila folders on the foot of the bed. I mean, I figured he had to be used to Ryuzaki doing much weirder stuff than paperwork on a bed, but I was tired, and I don't wanna use a desk if I don't gotta. "These are the translated summaries of miss Misora and mister Penber's cases. Some notable, some not." Hands folded behind his back again, prime Butlering Position. "Each file is, however, incomplete. None of these cases states an outcome, and each has had crucial information removed. Your task, miss Amane, is to reconstruct as many as you can to determine their outcomes, the crucial information I have omitted, and miss Misora or mister Penber's role in it. As I will be serving as your interpreter, I can ensure that you aren't able to simply ask your interviewees directly about the case summaries. Our aides have been instructed to follow the same rules. Beyond that, anything goes."

"Awesome!" It was pretty awesome. Made me feel like the big time, you know? I looked at my stack of work and it looked like there were ten folders here. Let's see... //UNITED STATES OF AMERICA v. NICHOLAS CAVELLA//. //OPERATION SQUEEGEE//. //UNITED STATES OF AMERICA v. JULIO ALLERO//. //OPERATION DUELING BANJOS//. Boy, they had some dumb operation names in the FBI. //OPERATION CRYSTAL SUN//. And now here's this thing that sounds like a fantasy movie! //UNITED STATES OF AMERICA v. RODNEY ROSS//. They all looked the same from the cover pages.

"Hmmmmm..." I made a big show of how hard I was thinking. I'm not sure why. I just kinda do that kinda thing. "Well, if I had to guess... Right off the bat, some of them are Operations and some of them are Versus. When you go to court in Japan it's someone versus someone else, so, I'm guessing the versus ones went to court, and then operations maybe didn't go to court. That sounds like the right track?"

"It is good that you are making inferences, but you don't have enough data yet," he nodded. "Do try not to do things out of order. Here is your list of three assistants, with their individual areas of skill. When you have selected who to send where and what information to find, please let me know. We'll go over how to pay them untraceably." He headed back out to the kitchen nook to -- of course -- brew some tea.

Okay. Simple stuff. I can do this. I only have to fill in the blanks, and I got three guys to help me! But I can't ask them 'hey do you know how this case turned out', I gotta get the actual evidence. This seems, you know, like a good exercise. I'm not the big sleuth type, but, like, there's a whole lot of info out there you need to have before you go sleuthing. My job is putting it all in the pile for the sleuth.

So first off I looked at where each thing happened. We're in California right now, so, anything that wasn't in California, that went in this pile over here. I would look at a map later to see where they were so I could send the same guy to everything in the same area. Anything that was about something that I had no idea what it was, also went in that pile. I'd get a guy for that stuff. Okay, so what do we got?

//UNITED STATES OF AMERICA v. NICHOLAS CAVELLA.// Happened in Nevada, I don't know where Nevada is, going to a travel guy.

//OPERATION SQUEEGEE//. Ooh, a twofer! Naomi and Raye both worked on this... although, wait, did they not work together? They have different years on it. This file is pretty thick and doesn't look well-organized. Cover page says it's about... a gay sex club in LA that's doing like interstate prostitution. And they interviewed customers and the owner... So there's a bunch of sex weirdoes, and also maybe know how to be gay better, and ALSO maybe I could learn about how weird Naomi likes her sex, ALSO ALSO maybe Raye was a dick to people for being gay? That was definitely getting Personal Misa Attention.

//UNITED STATES OF AMERICA v. JULIO ALLERO.// This was a murder case, the guy wasn't FROM California, but he killed two people in California. And... boy, this file was SLIM. Watari had the areas he blanked out highlighted in pink so I would know what was intentionally omitted. Nothing about a trial here at all. I needed to know who died and where Allero came from, but it looked like this one didn't last long. That one was either going to be real easy or totally impossible, so I'll take it and then call an audible if it turns out to be impossible.

//OPERATION DUELING BANJOS//. Raye and Naomi worked together on this one at the same time. Didn't care what it was about, gonna take it myself.

//OPERATION CRYSTAL SUN//. Something about running drugs up from the Mexican border that Raye worked on. He definitely could have taken a cut for himself, but I wouldn’t be able to find out. I bet Watari had a dude who spoke Spanish for me. I’d tell him to pay special attention to the Raye-coke-mule angle.

//UNITED STATES OF AMERICA v. RODNEY ROSS//. Racketeering, which meant Mafia guy. Probably need to know some people who know some people, and I at most know some people who know some people who know some people, so I would delegate it to a more immediate people-knower. Raye was not on this one, so while like he COULD have been taking bribes from the Mafia, it probably wasn’t this particular Mafia guy.

//STATE OF CALIFORNIA v. BEYOND BIRTHDAY//. Oh, here we go. The big one.

I knew this was The Big Case that Naomi was involved in. And everyone said it was this awesome cool thing she did. And that she hated it, she hated having it brought up, it made her feel absolutely awful. I wasn't gonna ask her to explain it! That would take her hours of struggling for words, and drawing pictures, and hearing me repeat things back slowly so she can stop me when I get to something wrong, and sometimes flow charts that don't have labels, and spending that whole time focusing on something that made her feel absolutely terrible would be completely unfair to ask of her. So obviously this one is getting Personal Misa Attention. And instead of putting it into the stack, I read it.

It was kind of thick and kind of disorganized and the translation on some of the documents was obviously really bad, so like there's no point in recounting it word for word. But I think I understood what happened.

Naomi was suspended from duty for discharging her weapon without identifying herself. This was actually important to the case because they had to rule that since she was suspended she wasn't working as a law enforcer and so she didn't need a warrant, but like, the guy came with her to every scene anyway. But that's later. Anyway there had been three really gruesome murders in LA set up like "locked room puzzles", like, deaths that should have been impossible. You know like the one where it's "a guy hanged himself but there was no chair or other thing to stand on to get in the noose, there was just a puddle of water beneath him", and then it turns out the guy stood on a block of ice and it melted. Which doesn't make sense, because, I mean, I look this kind of thing up, when you die of hanging it's because your neck snaps all of a sudden from the fall, so if the guy really stood on a block of ice and waited for it to melt he wouldn't have had his neck snap, he would have choked and turned blue and flailed around and broke the rope and everyone would have known INSTANTLY what happened. But that's neither here nor there.

Okay so Naomi was suspended from her duty and there were these weird gruesome murders that were the talk of the town. So L contacted her in her off hours to get her help with solving the case. And then she met this guy who LOOKED like Ryuzaki and SAID he was Ryuzaki who took her around to the crime scenes pointing out clues and stuff. But it turned out he was not Ryuzaki, he was some other guy who called himself Beyond Birthday, or B, and he was just obsessed with Ryuzaki. He even got surgery to look more like Ryuzaki. He had it in his head he was going to surpass L by being the world's greatest criminal, somehow.

So he was going to make these unsolvable murders that all led to each other in a sequence of maddeningly incomplete clues only L could begin to decipher and he would always fall short. But according to him, I think, Naomi kept figuring out all the dumb clues he was setting for L so he had to keep going along like he was really investigating. He was going to burn himself to death and be the fourth victim in an unsolvable murder chain that would haunt L forever. Naomi was of the opinion that L didn't care, and nobody cared. Anyway she figured out his plan and stopped him before he set himself on fire, and his whole bit of suicide performance art was ruined.

I could definitely see where Naomi was coming from there. Everyone else was all like "What a great job, you followed the clues that only L was supposed to decipher, you're a genius!" But that's not how she saw it. She's a lot harder on herself than that. From her perspective, she didn't DO anything. She didn't save anyone. The clues she deciphered were fake and meaningless anyway, given to her by the killer pretending to be her helper, so all she did was chase her tail. The only thing she actually prevented was stopping the killer from dying really painfully. So to her I bet it was like in elementary school when the popular girls all congratulated you on your cool new backpack and you got all proud and started showing it off to people but then it turned out it was ugly and everyone hated it so they were lying about it to build you up and make you humiliate yourself. No wonder she's so suspicious of praise and hates being condescended to so much. I mean not only are people condescending to her because she's disabled, the "biggest achievement of her career" was something that felt totally fake.

I honestly didn't know what to think about that. I mean, I understood how she felt. I hate fake compliments too. But, like, was it nothing, or was it a huge accomplishment? She thought it was nothing and she was really perceptive and smart. But also she is really perceptive and smart and too hard on herself and deserves more praise. If she shouldn't get praise for "BB", then she should get it for all the good stuff she did earn, like, uh, perhaps a teensy bit about saving everyone in the entire world from a deranged false god of murder.

It was... Oh geez, it was 9 PM by now. I was reading for a while. So that meant it was the middle of the day for her, so, I sent her a message. 

//To MIONA at 8:53 PM: LOVE YOU!//

//To MIONA at 8:53 PM: YOU ARE AWESOME//

I asked her to put her details in my phone without even thinking about what I was asking, and she did, but she spelled her name wrong, got it backwards. That was fine, I didn't wanna change it. It was like a cute thing we shared!

//From MIONA at 8:58 PM: ALSO//

I was pretty sure that meant "I feel the same" but I don't know. God, it was double hard to figure out how she felt when she was communicating by text. Hopefully the reminder that I loved her would keep her going long enough for me to come back with the Raye black dossier.

Anyway, back to my train of thought. So she had to come back and give testimony at the trial because she was the primary eyewitness, so she had to keep wading through the bullshit. There were a LOT of asterisks in the transcript of her testimony. Did they make a tape of her like at her deposition? Then I'd know what she sounded like when she could talk fluently, so I could do her voice and cadence better. I mean, in a language I don't understand, but still. Anyway the enemy lawyer first said that she needed a warrant because she was an FBI agent, but she was off duty, and ALSO, I am pretty sure when a suspect tells a cop "hey come here look at my crime scene I made" they are allowed to go look at it. Then he talked about her firearms-discharge and the fact she slapped the guy around and some other complaints in the past was proof she was violent and vindictive and was lying. Which she wasn't! God, that made me mad just to read it. She was violent to people who deserved it, and she was merciful, and she was WAY better than Kira so where the hell did this guy get off, huh? What a slimeball. I hoped he lost his license.

Anyway that argument didn't go anywhere because Beyond Birthday fired him and did that thing where you serve as your own lawyer, because you're crazy. He stopped trying to attack Naomi's character and he said she was excellent at her job, so, at least he could recognize that. Instead, he argued that he couldn't be held responsible for murder because he knew when everyone he killed was fated to die and he only killed them at that point. Everyone thought he was going for an insanity plea, but he couldn't even get that, the jury convicted him in like twenty minutes, and he went to jail for life. And on January 21, Light Yagami killed him in prison. 

"I can tell when people are going to die" sure sounds like something a crazy person would say. And it was, but that doesn't mean it wasn't true. I can see that exact thing, so, maybe he made the deal for the shinigami eyes too. If he did, then his arrest photo would show him without a lifespan because he owned a Note. So I pulled down my filter glasses, and...

Nope. //BRENO BARBOSA 34122842//, had his lifespan on display. Since he still remembered the eyes during the case, he didn't have them before and then give ownership up. So unless he was like me and he traded for the eyes and THEN the shinigami who traded them died and THEN he lost possession of the notebook but had nobody to give them back to so he still realized he had them, he didn't trade with any shinigami. Just a wacko.

Hmm. I'm supposed to find the names of everyone involved, including the perpetrator. Using the eyes felt like cheating, but, this is training me for how I am going to do the job, and I DO have the eyes, and let's be real I don't have weeks to figure these out. I know he obviously gave out his name eventually if Watari has something to check me against and Light killed him. But... I think it's a good practice to not tell anyone but Naomi what exactly I see. And using the Shinigami Eyes would definitely be cheating when I was supposed to be learning Watari-ing. I left the field blank.

So I had one short little gimme, then Naomi's formative traumatic case, and what looked like her and Raye's first case with weird sex stuff and maybe dirt on him, and then their first case together. And then that left two cases each for my three guys. Gonna do great. Gonna win Naomi's heart for sure and be the best assistant ever and everything's gonna be fine and I am not EVEN going to take a nap even though I am right here in bed, because I am a devoted and hard worker, and also because if I tossed and turned in my sleep paper would go everywhere.

But.

You know.

Maybe there was something else I could do. To take the edge off. Wake up a little. 

I mean, was that crazy? I just got done reading about a big murder case that Naomi hated working on. But that was also reading a lot about Naomi and how smart and cool and capable she was. Super insane people masturbate to murder reports, but only moderately insane people masturbate AFTER reading murder reports but not BECAUSE of murder reports. I was still clear to be moderately insane.

So I carefully slithered my way to the head of the bed and slid under the covers. Careful not to jostle the files, they were on the end, and with my legs spread and bent, I wasn't going to knock them over. And I wasn't going to go all the way. My naughty bits were clear to go, and, and I was going to make sure Naomi made me cum first... but it's fun leading up to the climax, right? Just something to tide me over. A bit. A tiny, teeeeensy bit. I slid my hand under my skirt and into my panties, and started to rub myself. Gently. Nothing too much.

Like I have to meet ALL of her needs to be L, right? ALL of them. So like she's going over case notes or yellow sheets or something, and I'm under her desk, and her legs are spread and I'm eating her out like crazy and she doesn't even react and that's not because she doesn't like it I KNOW she likes it but because she's just so cool and composed and unflappable. The only recognition she gives is the better a job I do, the more she cranks up the intensity on my remote control bullet vibrator, so the better I make her feel the better I feel.

Man I wish I packed my bullet vibrator. I wish Watari wasn't "helping" me pack and looking at everything.

No, she doesn't just turn on the vibrator. She's cool but she cares too. Sometimes she looks down at me, and she smiles, and she rubs me on the head, and she doesn't need words to say "Good job, Misa."

She's not going to need words, because we're going to be so in sync. I'm gonna be such a good interpreter she just has to stay like in the shadows making the slightest motions to indicate where I should go and she's going to be so mysterious and powerful and everyone's gonna be all "oh she is so mysterious and dominates every scene with her quiet power oh she's such an enticing enigma I wish I could learn more" but the only one who gets to do that will be me and she'll guide me in bed with that subtle irresistible power too and I'll just be completely helpless before her, I'll melt away at her slightest whim. 

Careful, Misa. slow down. Can't cum yet. Gotta save it for her. Just taking the edge off.

Ooh, maybe that's something. Isn't that a thing where you like get close to orgasm and then you don't, and it makes it more, like, more intense and overwhelming and just MORE. Naomi could totally do that if she wanted. But it wouldn't be like a thing where I was in rags and all Oliver Twist-ey and begging for a meager scrap of orgasm. No, no, she'd lay me down and her expert fingers would bring me right to the edge and back

riiight to the edge, and back...

okay and spend some more time on the "back" I guess I'm really close and I feel like I really NEED to but I don't wanna go too early so I need to dial it back

Until she decided now was the best time for me to cum, and it'd feel even better because I super earned it and I deserved it by being so good for her. If she decided when I came that would be great, I mean, she obviously has better judgment than I do.

and BOY I would really like to cum right now but I want to make the first time back be with Naomi so let's calm it down, calm it down, don't go crazy, this is just for fun, not gonna be a big thing, not a full-fledged orgasm with all the bells and whistles...

We'd go home after a long day of jobs well done and she'd sit down on the loveseat and I'd lay down next to her and talk about our feelings, and I would interpret her very well because her feelings are so close to my heart, and she'd just reach over to my skirt and put her hand into it just like I am right now because I'm super close and that feels real good but like I really feel like I need something more so I mean I can get closer and I'd cum because she thought I deserved it and I just had to sit back and go for the ride. And like she would lick up a trickle of blood from my wrist and smile because my heart still tasted as good as ever. Or she'd trickle a bit of her blood into my mouth and I'd feel so warm and complete, and the whole time she would be bringing me closer and closer and driving my anticipation further and further just like now where it feels really good but I need MORE I need it to FINISH so she'd be expertly playing with me like a master director taking me on an emotional rollercoaster hitting every beat she wanted just like she wanted but what I want is to cum I fuckin' need it I can't fuckin' stand it any more I have to CUM maybe I can apologize to her or maybe I'm Catholic so I can do some amount of Hail Maries but I'm only half Catholic so maybe I need like half rosary half budddhist malas but the point is there's a solution there and I can just do that because I'm so CLOSE I need it I need it I'm almost there I'm gonna lose my mind

"Miss Amane. Have you completed your assignment?"

"JESUS FUCK GODDAMN WHAT THE SHIT!" My heart felt like it was about to explode out of my chest. I leaped like two feet straight up, yanking out the covers, and sending all my files splaying everywhere across the room. 

Watari was peeking through the door. He looked surprised but only for like a second, meanwhile I felt that awful hot shame flushing through all my skin again. "Ahem. Please lock the door next time, Miss Amane." And he locked it behind him when he ducked out.

Not only was shame blossoming all over my body, I was clutching my chest to keep my heart from popping, gasping for air. God damn! I thought I was going to die! Fuck, god damn it, an old British spy dude walked in on me masturbating and acted like it wasn't even a thing! Ugh, uuuugh, and I gotta pick all this shit up. I pulled my skirt and panties back up and crawled out of bed. I could have finished myself off, but, for one I didn't much feel like masturbating in case I saw Watari's face while I was doing it, and for two, that enormous shock cleared up my thoughts a bit and I could think clearly now and remember that I wanted to save myself for Naomi.

I mean, that was fun for a while. I was definitely a lot more awake. But, uh, maybe "I'm just going to masturbate and not climax as a nice easy relaxation exercise" was perhaps not the best idea. Because I may have been awake but like a third of my brain was devoted to "I should finish off right now." I mean, if I was half asleep before, I guess I still came out ahead. Whatever! Focus, Misa! You're learning to be an assistant! Cum later when you earned it!

### 
    
    
    * * *

//Love conquers all! Boo on the exes!

Before Misa and Naomi's love could defeat evil, first they had to overcome their past loves!

LIGHT YAGAMI

[Light_Yagami_First_Victim_Since_Ki[...].jpg]

\- Utter sociopath  
\- Mass murderer  
\- Narcissist  
\- Manipulative  
\- Backstabber  
\- Delusions of godhood  
\- No remorse or empathy  
\- One of the three worst human beings to ever live

Light plotted to rule the world as a charnel God and murder everyone who stood in his way, and Misa, at her most desperate and vulnerable and hopeless, fell right into his sinister grasp and became a different, evil person! He was going to use the Second Kira to carry out his evil will and wring her out into nothing! But with Naomi's love, she saw a way to be a real human being, and not a puppet of Kira, because her life mattered too! Now every day, Misa is becoming a better person! Misa and Naomi: 1, Light: 0!

RAYE PENBER 

[fed-ca-losang-penberr.jpg]

\- Good old boy  
\- Short lifespan  
\- Longhorns apparently not as a good as Sooners  
\- Fan of inferior beer  
\- Slacked off at work, would slack off as husband  
\- Pretended to know Japanese  
\- Keeps women in kitchen, barefoot and pregnant

Raye wasn't evil like Light, but he was still no good! As reassuring as he was to be around, he was someone who kept things too conservative, too low-key, stunting growth. Like a comforting hit of heroin, he made the pain go away for now but would make it worse in the future, and Naomi was strong and brave enough to realize she had moved beyond needing him as a crutch!

But maybe he would be perfect for someone else, not for her

And still okay to be sad just not too much

I tht ho heroin ork?//

### 
    
    
    * M I S A *

New untraceable phone! New fancy car that I'm not driving! New laptop! Missing fingers.

I've heard of phantom pain, you know, like when you lose a body part it still hurts. I didn't have that. I just had phantom fingers. They just... felt like they were still there and working. So when I typed, my muscle memory said I was hitting two columns of keys that I wasn't hitting at all.

It's hard to feel like the super-capable always-on-top assistant when you have to go back after every sentence and change a million typos.

But, I mean, I was still learning. Watari told me how to tracelessly pay our guys (you use the software that tracelessly pays guys by bouncing it through a bunch of banks). I showed him my assignments, and then he corrected me and told me what the right answers were, but I only got 3 wrong so that was pretty good. Now he drove me up in his big black American mini monster truck SUV dealie and we were outside the site of //OPERATION DUELING BANJOS//: an office building Raye and Naomi were staking out, that had some cult front thing in it with people coming and going. I needed to find out what the cult's deal was and if they were prosecuted. I WANTED to find out anything bad Raye might have done while Naomi wasn't looking. 

So, the pay was done, and the E-mails were sent, and I didn't have any new E-mail I cared about myself. Now, how was I going to get all that juicy info from here? It wasn't like I was going to find anything in there. They never went inside. And there was no way that office was gonna be empty after the cult left it, because I know real estate in Tokyo is the most expensive in the world but Los Angeles is pretty close. Maybe there was something I could see from out here. No evidence of Raye’s wrongdoing, probably, because if he had like used heroin wrappers he wouldn’t stash them in line of sight. That’s not what I’m supposed to be doing at the moment, gotta focus on the actual case. So, I snapped up my newspaper -- LA has a Japanese newspaper, it's the Rafu Shimpo -- and tried to peek at the building over the top of it. 

"Miss Amane," Watari said, getting all impatient.

"Hush! I'm thinking!" I snapped back. I didn't want the answer yet. Maybe it was a math thing, you know? Like, you look at the angle they would observe from, and see what floor they were looking at in addition to the front entrance. Wait, were they in a normal sedan? Maybe I should slouch in my seat so I'm lower to the ground.

Man, the entertainment section of this paper was not encouraging. Well, it didn't say in so many words, but Kira had really fucked with Hollywood. 

Actors and actresses know they get stalkers. People develop completely unhealthy one-sided relationships with them. And people who play villains in big series -- other than Machiko Soga, everyone loved her, she was a REAL sweet lady -- often get hate mail and threats like they actually did the thing their characters did. So once someone starts killing people untraceably for being "evil", of course actors and actresses would get real, real worried about that. A rational person would not kill them for playing a villain, or spurning their imaginary advances, but we don't expect everyone to be rational about us. So a lot of anime was getting dubbed for wide release, and there were already like tentpole action blockbusters that were entirely animated, because people didn't want to show their faces.

But on top of that was something most of us Japanese people didn't even consider. In Japan we really, really, really don't like drugs. Like, if you get caught with drugs, your career is over, and they erase you from history. And people might think that never happened, because they don’t know about anyone it happened to, because they all got erased from history. In Hollywood, though, they don't care at all as long as you're acting well, so everyone is assumed to be high any time they are on camera. 

So not only do you have the thing where they are worried Kira might kill them to impress Jodie Foster, now everyone in production is like "okay we got a guy who says he is keeping people safe by killing bad people, but we know he's from a country that thinks people who do this thing we think is harmless are very bad people." They fired the guy who was gonna play the Iron Man because he'd been in rehab for drug problems. Not like he was doing anything bad, just, he had drug problems in the past, and Japan hates that, so out you go.I wouldn't want to deal with that! Like, if Kira was American, what if he, I dunno, he thought hentai manga meant we were all rapists and perverts and started killing us for stuff we don't really care about? 

And Kira being caught didn't fix everything. Like half of the people seemed to think "yay, he was stopped, everything is cool now" but a bunch of people were clearly like "Okay, THIS one got caught, but we know magically killing people is a thing that people can do now, so maybe someone ELSE can do it, and we got no idea what that guy is like." Like it almost made things more uncertain. 

"Miss Amane."

"Quiet! I don't want you to tell me the answer yet, I didn't give up!" Though he had a point. I was letting my mind wander and super capable assistants never did that. Well, unless they were assisting movies, because EVERYONE spends half their time wondering what Craft Services has today...

"Aha! I figured it out!" I said. "We need to go get lunch!"

Watari sighed. "No, miss Amane. We will not be taking a break until you have at least done one useful thing related to your task."

I was already swinging my door open, so I stopped in confusion. "Wait, what? This is my task. I figured out the answer, right?"

Now he was massaging the bridge of his nose. That only helps with migraines, you know, and way more people did that than actually had migraines. "No. You need to go inside, Misa. We need to question the building's managers, and determine who moved out, and their activities while renting the space here."

"Huh?" That really didn't sound right at all. "No, Naomi and Raye didn't go in, I figured I couldn't either. It makes perfect sense, though! They had to be here for like weeks, right? All day. They gotta eat like anyone. AND, I know Naomi has a real specific order from like multiple types of places: 'Five times as much garlic as you think it needs.'" Vampires usually don't LIKE garlic but it doesn't do anything bad unless they have some specific anti-garlic cursed bloodline so that was still believable. Narrative still intact. "So the restaurants around here would probably recognize them, or her order, and tell us what they remember. About what they were doing, AND about Raye! He probably made her wait on him hand and foot by getting lunch every time!"

"That's not the answer I was looking for, Misa. The building's manager has the information you require."

"Well, screw it, I like my idea better," I said, and I hopped out of my seat and started striding down the street toward a neon hamburger a couple blocks away. Man, I hoped Watari would give an exasperated sigh and follow me, because I was not going to be able to do shit without an interpreter, saying 「gaa-riku」 and holding up five fingers, which I could only do with one hand, and having no idea what the guy said in response. 

But there was the door slam, and there was the sigh, and the footsteps following me, and I was in business!

The hamburger place didn't have many people, but it was small enough to seem kind of crowded anyway. It was dim and dingy and the air had the distinct tinge of a deep fryer. A real greasy spoon place. While I waited for Watari to catch up, I looked at the menu like a normal customer. Big variety of things here. Hamburgers, chicken wings, enormous sodas... 

Mother. FUCKER.

They had pizza too. Big greasy slices. With the mozzarella all over and browned in spots. There was a guy eating it and the crust was all floppy and doughy. As in, exactly like a Pizza Hut in Japan, with less toppings. As in, a chain pizza in America is the same as in Japan. As in Watari got me a fancy pizza and lied about it and now I can't eat it for the first time with Naomi!

Calm down, Misa. Take it easy. Maybe you're being paranoid. Maybe you're trying to find a reason to hate him because he said you didn't get the right answer but you know that isn't a very good reason to hate someone and you know sometimes your crazy makes you think you need to hate people.

Okay, that's a good point, but now I'm gonna keep an eye out. I know when you translate from Japanese to English, you have to change a lot, because of keigo and stuff. If you directly translated American English to Japanese everyone would be talking so familiarly and so rudely they'd sound like yakuza threatening your family, and judging from experience if you translated Japanese directly to American English they'd think YOU were being rude because you were wasting their time not getting to the point and Americans got shit to do. So Watari was doing some interpretation. But if he lied to me about something as small as the pizza, and wouldn't tell the boss about Naomi, maybe he was getting too creative.

Watari had come in, looking put upon but ready to translate. "Hello! My name is Aiko Maru, from the Japan Organized Crime Division of our National Police Agency." I bowed politely while I held out my hand to shake, covered all my bases. "Do you have a few minutes to talk? I am here to sort out a discrepancy in some of our reports, it's nothing major and it won't take long at all. It's just, you know, I am supposed to deal with expense reports, right, and I have three here that are completely different, and then every single time I have sent someone to look at it, the Japanese translation comes back with a completely new story and ANOTHER new number, so I finally had to come to America and sort it out myself everywhere that needed reimbursement."

A nice little story, something that justifies why someone who can't speak English schlepped all the way out here to follow up on. Humanizing, it establishes me as being hapless and having that 'well, there's no helping it' attitude. Makes me look a little dumb, a little silly, having to go through all this trouble for a restaurant expense report. Life is funny, and all that. But I kept my arm straight at my side, I didn't emote with my body at all beyond a slight head tilt. It was all in my voice and the words I used.

I didn't look at Watari, I looked at the guy I was talking to while Watari spoke English to him. I looked really close. All he did was nod gravely, like he had been told he had serious work to do, and give me a firm, businesslike handshake. I'm not arrogant enough to think I can coax out any reaction I want from someone who speaks a different language, but there was NOTHING. He didn't have a smile of recognition. Didn't try not to laugh, not even a crinkle around his eyes. Didn't roll his eyes. Didn't get embarrassed. Didn't look at me like I was an idiot. Wasn't confused as to why I told that self-deprecating story while stiff as a board. 

Because Watari had told him a different story.

### 
    
    
    * * *

//A crazy time and a crazy-good date!

[storefront02.jpg]

On the run, hunted from all sides by a subverted investigation and a new rogue Kira, with one of them shivering from a kiss with hypothermic Death, Misa and Naomi not only conducted a successful stakeout and executed a perfect plan to neutralize the new Kira and all his goons -- they had their first real date, and what a date it was!

Sitting out there on the patio of Izezakicoffee, breath visible in the crisp autumn air, Naomi and Misa were warmed by their hot drinks, but most of all, by each other's company! Even with hypothermia and aphasia, they had an easy, light-hearted back-and-forth about absurd romance stories, playing off of each other like pros! Though they determined an excellent multi-stage plan to flush the new rogue Kira out of hiding, they determined something far more important: that Race Queen Misa can't outrun the speed of love!

Hot Chocolate: 8/10. Lukewarm Chocolate: 4/10. Cover: Visual only. Biscotti: Biscottilike.//

### 
    
    
    * M I S A *

Well, OPERATION DUELING BANJOS was a bust. For me, anyway. Yeah, I learned that the stakeout was on a multi-level marketing scheme serving as a front to get people roped into the Children of God and Naomi and Raye proved the connection based on the people who were going in and out, and it took 2 months and the guy in charge was charged with wire fraud which is just "fraud but on a computer" and like everything involving money has a computer nowadays so I don't know why it's a separate crime. But I didn't get any dirt on Raye, just that he was the one who usually picked up their food. 

That is to say, I didn't get any dirt myself. Since I figured out Watari was taking too much editorial liberties with my translation, who knew what HE learned. There was no way he was accurately asking my questions about if Raye was shit-talking Naomi when he came to pick up their meals.

So I figured out a plan for our next stop, the site of OPERATION SQUEEGEE. The weirdo gay sex club, "Beneath". It didn't look like a weirdo gay sex club, it looked like a completely nondescript warehouse thing. Which I guess is actually what a weirdo gay sex club would look like. Anyway, we were in line -- there were only two girls counting me -- and hadn't even approached the bouncer yet, and Watari was coaching me.

"Miss Amane. First, we will get past the bouncer, who is likely told to keep out law enforcement -- this will require a significant bribe. Five hundred to a thousand dollars will ensure your entry, which you should pass to him inconspicuously, with a handshake." He pulled out a stack of bills and flipped out five of them. "Once inside, there will likely be a lobby and receptionist or bartender, who may have some of the information we need."

"Which is, what were the charges, did it go to trial, why did it run for so long, and were there any changes in staff as a result of the investigation," I responded. Man, good thing we were speaking a language nobody understood. "But ALSO, was Raye a dick to anyone for being gay, and slash or, was he in a secret torrid gay love affair." That would be sleazy to bring up, but man, I takes em where I can gets em. 

"Correct." He slipped me the bribe money all inconspicuously. "The receptionist may know some of this, and if there is a bartender, they will likely know more. But we will need to speak to the club's owner to get everything. You must impart onto the people you speak the impression that you are an annoyance, not a problem, who is best dealt with by kicking you upstairs and letting you get what you want so you will leave." 

"I got it, I got it," I said with a wave. Of course a guy who was editing his translation would micromanage me. "But, you know, because I am pretending to have a legit reason to be here, I should also ask them about their practices and stuff. Like I am making sure they do things safely. So are you okay with translating that kind of thing?"

He looked down at me, sighed just a little bit, and said "Very well. I don't expect it to be a problem." Perfect. Excellent. Exactly what I needed. 

Now that we'd finished briefing, I handed Watari my purse. I broke away, walked past like twenty people, flashed the bouncer a smile and a wink, then pointed to Watari holding my stuff. I walked in confidently, not even acknowledging the possibility he would want to stop me. He let me in without so much as a word, and behind me, I heard Watari fumble for the spare bribe money he'd kept.

Like, seriously. I'm a celebrity, and an Osaka girl. You think I can't just walk into a nightclub?

Right inside the walls were old, stained wood, and the muffled music was louder, all OONTZ OONTZ OONTZ. There was an odd bench along the left wall, elevated with individual seats and little metal thingies at foot level. Oh! That's like a shoe-shiner bench. In case you get sex goo on your shoes, I guess. Didn't see any Dickensian orphans around to operate it, just some like Victorian looking furniture, and some posters for bands and stuff. A couple dudes were on the couch, probably waiting for someone else. Details, noted, filed, let's move on.

Around the corner, past the foyer, with Watari lagging behind, was the nightclubby part. The music was loud enough I had to raise my voice, but not exactly shout, per se. The lights were very flashy and lots of dudes without shirts and wearing glowy wristbands were dancin' away in the recessed central dance floor. In the center, there was a Christmas tree, and a couple of the dudes were trying to do some kind of 'solstice dance' thing but most weren't bothering. The bar was off to the side, where a guy in a rainbow shirt was backed up by thousands of colorful bottles, even though you KNOW none of them have actual liquor he is using in them. There were a couple of open bar stools, so I came on up -- before Watari followed me, that was important, I had to make a scene here -- and I bowed, extended my hand, gave that winning smile, and said "Hello! My name is Aiko Maru, from the Japan Organized Crime Division of our National Police Agency. I hope it isn't too much trouble, but I need to sort out some things about an investigation, there's some expense reports, I can't figure out who was where, and this place sounded interesting, so I was hoping..."

He just kind of stared at me and said "「Honey, I think you must have got the wrong address,」" which I would guess meant 'I can't understand a word you are saying'. I blushed and laughed nervously (but cutely) as Watari caught up. Oh no, I was so eager to get talking, I left my interpreter behind! How silly of me! I must not work with him very closely.

So Watari came up, and I repeated my intro, but unlike at the restaurant I emoted, let him see my body language. I'm kind of embarrassed, kind of hapless, but I'm friendly and lovable! I had no idea if Watari accurately said it, and he responded with "Go ahead and ask me what you need, but I will be serving customers before you."

"Cool, thanks! I'll take a... I'll have a screwdriver, please." And I mimed cranking my wrist like I was turning a screwdriver. See, it's loud, I don't want to be misunderstood! Very believable, plausible action. He pulled a bottle of clear booze and a carton of orange juice out.

Okay, Misa. time to go. Time to paint a scene.

"So, the things you do in this place are safe, aren't they? You follow, like, best practices?" Look eagerly while Watari translates, get a response in the affirmative. "Because, like, there are some things I am confused about. How... How are you supposed to get a fist inside of somebody?" I held my thumb and forefinger together along their length between my legs, and pulled it up between us. "Because, like, I have very small hands, but I don't see how I'm supposed to..." I clenched my other fist, and I fruitlessly mime-punched the little space between my fingers. "...You know? I don't see how you can get it through."

Try playing that off as the thing you thought I 'should' say, Watari.

Watari looked at me like a spot of dog doo, rolled his eyes, and translated. The bartender's shoulders were already shaking from watching me, but hearing Watari say it caused him to double over in laughter and almost spill my drink. Comedy transcends language barriers. He responded, which Watari reported as "You don't place your fist inside someone. You lay your hand flat, and make a fist once inside. Miss Amane, this is not necessary for the information we are gathering."

"It totally is! Like I said, I have to pretend I am interested in how safe they are being. I can also check if their story changes from person to person... and you know what, I wanna know how this works anyway." I cleared my throat and turned back to the bartender. "Okay, good! I just wanted to make sure you did things safely here. Actually, speaking of... You tie up people here, don't you?" With Watari translating, I couldn't really wait for a response, but it was still polite. "Have you ever, say, straitjacketed someone," I whipped my hands in front of me in straitjacketing position, "lashed them to a gurney," I went rigid against a phantom backdrop, "blindfolded them," I held my hands over my eyes for a second before putting them back in straitjacket position, "and left them there for, I don't know, a month or so?"

Watari looked like he got halfway through the sentence and stopped. He looked at me. Every single time he looked at me he was just more tired and fed-up. "Miss Amane. Really? Is this really what you are doing? I would think you would agree with us how dangerous the Second Kira was, and what was permissible to do to keep her from harming us."

"Oh, yeah, but you only had HER for a couple of days, and the rest of the time was ME, and, you know what, I don't think it was very fun!" I said back. "But hey, who knows, maybe I'm wrong! This guy would definitely know enough to settle our dispute, though."

Big, big sigh. Watari turned back to the bartender. He took way more time than he should have to translate, so he was probably saying 'oh and also we had her fed intravenously and had a wiggle alarm and eventually after someone twisted our arms we let her listen to music' to try and justify it. But the bartender wasn't buying it, and there was no point in trying to hide the answer: he turned back to me and said "No, that would be very unsafe."

"Huh! Interesting. Very interesting." I took a sip of my drink. Orangey. "Now, blood. Blood is important. You have to be safe when you do things with blood. So, you know, how exactly do you do that?" I mimed stabbing myself in the chest, and stuck out my tongue. Then, I acted out the spraying coming out of my heart, and then, I mime-licked all up my arms. "Vampires may be messy eaters, but that is no excuse for you to be!"

Watari didn't even react, showed no emotion. Now making a big show of not being moved by my nonsense. And that was bad. The bartender giggled again, but Watari was emotionless. "All areas that blood are to be drawn from are sterilized with alcohol pads, fresh sterile implements are removed from their packaging for each 'scene', and consuming the blood is not allowed."

Huh. Well, that was probably a disease thing, and if it's only two people you can be safe drinking it. I should remember to use alcohol pads for everything, I didn't think about that. Watari was playing it cool, so I had to step it up. "Good! Good. Now, I wanna ask about keeping people as pets." Mime collar around my neck. Pant like an enthusiastic dog. "Are the pets properly fed? Because, you know, every dog food I've ever seen, it's specially formulated for a dog's unique nutritional needs." Bend over the bar, like I am eating out of a bowl. "You can't use dog food then, so are you springing for the special people kibble?"

By this point four or five other guys at the bar were crowding around to listen to the dignified old man have to relay the nonsense coming out of my mouth, all giggling. "Human pets and their owners bring their own food from home. He also wants you to know that human pets are more than just dogs." As Watari said this, the bartender started licking himself like a cat. And then flapped his hands, like... I wanna say a parakeet? Are there sexy parakeets?

"Oh! Good, good, that all seems to be in order." You know, while I'm here... "How about bunnies? Do you serve rabbits?" Fingers above my head, bent like bunny ears. I figured, a rabbit was mainstream enough to have the whole Playboy Bunny thing going on, but it was also a little bit unconventional, little unique. 

And I could be a bunny. Naomi's bunny. She'd keep me as a pet and there would be nuzzling. Maybe some hopping, if the situation called for it. Wouldn't wiggle my nose unless I made it sexy. She'd have a collar on me but I wouldn't be tied up, and she'd pet me, and tell me I was a good bunny, although...

"...And, for that matter, are you always punishing the pets? Like, what is with all the spanking and all that?" Whack whack, as if hitting with a newspaper. "If I was a pet, I wouldn't want to be told I was bad and had to be punished. I would think you should tell them they are good boys, especially since they are actual boys, you know?" The guy with the umbrella drink had a spiky dog collar on, so I leaned in, and I scratched him behind the ear. It was kind of an improv thing, sudden, this place seemed pretty laid back, but I hope it wasn't rude. He seemed to think it was funny.

"He says that pets may be punished or praised as they prefer. Praise is a valid choice. They have no rabbits as of yet." Watari sounded like he was reading a forced apology. "Can we please end this outburst and get to the actual issues at hand?"

"Well, always room to grow!" I said. Hmm, Watari was pretty fed up, what else did I have... Oh, the collar! "So, if you get your own collar, is there some kind of etiquette for it? Do they have to be black? Have to be studded? Can you customize it like a school uniform, is there a limit on how many charms you can attach? Or is it like, you need a new collar every time to make it clean?"

Watari rubbed the bridge of his nose. "He says a collar is an important expression of two people's love for each other, and the intimacy of... Look. If this is how you are going to behave, then I don't see the need to translate for you. When you are ready to continue as an investigator, come get me in the lobby."

All right. There we are. Perfect. Of course trying to gross him out did nothing, but he got uncomfortable when the guy started talking about emotional connections. He stormed off in a huff. Maybe he would get his shoes shined. Once he was out, I spun my bar stool and shouted back to the dance floor: "HEY! IF ANYONE CAN UNDERSTAND THIS, I'LL GIVE YOU FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS IF YOU CAN COME OVER AND TRANSLATE FOR ME!"

Random gay club guy wasn't going to be exerting editorial control over what I said. Mission accomplished.

A skinny Japanese guy in a loose mesh tank top with glitter poured all over it came on over. "Hello. Ah, you, wished for having, a translator?"

Okay, he was a Japanese-American guy who was rusty on his mother tongue. Fine. That was fine. Hell, I would have rather had Naomi translate for me and she has a neurological speech disorder! What matters is that she would TRY, sincerely, without me having to embarrass her into it. I'd do a little dance to back up the few words she could get out, and I'd learn way more than I did with Watari here. Naomi wanted me to do well, and she wanted me to be ME. Not some other thing that she thought was better. Also this guy would probably try too. He at least had no reason not to.

"Yes, I did," I said. I talked slow and loud since he clearly wasn't that good. Americans have a bad reputation that they just talk louder and slower when people don't understand them, but I dunno, it made sense to me: try to make it as easy as possible to pick up a word they might know, right? "My name is Aiko Maru. I am from Japan's police. I am only here for information. I cannot get you in trouble." He started relaying this to the bartender before he realized I was just catching him up. I pulled out the pictures of Raye and Naomi. "Please ask him if he has seen these people before, and why they were here."

The bartender nodded, and I think my translator guy recognized at least one of them. The translator bowed to me and said "David Matsumoto", introduced himself, then they went back and forth. "Uh... Okay. Them are... being from FBI. FBI is wanting to, to, to, uh... 「Fuck, what was it?」 Be imprisoning group. For gay."

The FBI wanted to bust them for being gay. Was that a thing? Man, that would be bad news if we moved here. "Is gay illegal in America?" I should probably tie this back to my cover story too. "It affects how much we are supposed to reimburse them." He stared at me in incomprehension. Right. "How much we pay them for the time they spent."

He got it. "That will be difficult. Gay in America is being legal." Not the right way to say 'no', but he was erring on the side of politeness, which is probably where you wanna go in an unfamiliar situation. "The, uh... The uh... daimyo? The large-large FBI is disliking gay. Large FBI is not caring. Large-large FBI will be orders large FBI craftwork illegal of group. Large FBI is sending peasants and everyone with them of newness to... be mock them? To be making fun. 「Is there a Japanese word for 'Hazing'?」"

Okay. I think I got the gist of that. I could probably update my CV with 'expert gist-getter' by now. He went with the samurai movie word first, the feudal lord, so bigness means authority here. So the FBI boss's boss hates gay people and wants to harass them, the FBI boss doesn't care, so he sends the new agents in to waste their time. That was why Naomi and Raye worked at different times, because they joined at different times. "What did these people do to investigate you, and how did they end their investigation? Did anything happen because of it?"

He didn't bother translating to the bartender because he knew himself, but I stopped him with a finger and pointed over. I don't want translator bias! He relayed it to the bartender, the bartender just nodded which must have meant 'yeah you can give that answer'. "That will be difficult. The unpleasantness is without a foundation and is being left to itself. Peasants and everyone with them are speaking to us and will be looking inside of numbers. Very many peasants and everyone with them are learning that unpleasantness is not real. Peasants and everyone with them are being here and are purchasing sake."

Oh, so it's part of the training, sort of. Your first case is one that has no merit, so you learn to identify when you're just busting people's humps for nothing, so you won't do it again. Makes sense. And the club puts up with it because the boss is telling them to buy sake -- booze in general -- to give the club some business for their trouble. I pointed to Raye's picture. "Did this person say that he hated gay, or that gay should be illegal?"

Chat to bartender, bartender comes back, "That will be difficult. He is not hating gay. He is hating songs. He is ordering sake not present." Dang. Sounds like he didn't like it here; from what I gathered it wouldn't be the sort of place he liked anyway. The music was pretty lame, and it was a pretty long shot he would actually hate gay guys. It didn't seem like him. He just came in and asked for his favorite kind of beer, which they didn't stock because Sam Adams wasn't gay. No homophobia and no secret affair, that was a bust. My translator continued. "Why are you not to be asking questions about this and that and this?"

"Hey," I told him. "I want to be the slave of another woman and give her my blood. I will ask if there is any advice about gay that also is good for women. But I will finish my work questions first because I am a professional." And hey, for five hundred dollars, I think I should get a lot of work out of the guy.

### 
    
    
    * * *

//Love conquers all! Boo on the evil exes!

Before Misa and Naomi's love could defeat evil, first they had to move on to realize their love!

LIGHT YAGAMI

[Light_Yagami_First_Victim_Since_Ki[...].jpg]

\- Utter sociopath  
\- Mass murderer  
\- Narcissist  
\- Manipulative  
\- Backstabber  
\- Delusions of godhood  
\- No remorse or empathy  
\- One of the four worst human beings to ever live

Light plotted to rule the world as a charnel God and murder everyone who stood in his way, and Misa, at her most desperate and vulnerable and hopeless, fell right into his sinister grasp and became a different, evil person! He was going to use the Second Kira to carry out his evil will and wring her out into nothing! But with Naomi's love, she saw a way to be a real human being, and not a puppet of Kira, because her life mattered too! Now every day, Misa is becoming a better person! Misa and Naomi: 1, Light: 0!

RAYE PENBER 

[fed-ca-losang-penberr.jpg]

\- Texas  
\- Not going to live very long  
\- Too traditional

Though Raye's death was a tragedy, and Naomi had every right to be upset, eventually she saw the silver lining in the cloud that would allow her to grow and be more than she ever could have been alongside Raye!

Raye would have been okay, but not as good as Misa

Raye would have been

Raye could have been

42\. INT. BANQUET HALL, DAY

Low shot of the massive banquet table, adorned with silver place settings at every seat, though food is only set out at the right-hand place next to COUNTESS, where NOBLEWOMAN is seated. COUNTESS herself has a wine glass of blood. Rotate to OTS shot of NOBLEWOMAN. 

NOBLEWOMAN

Do you think this is making me like you, a dinner together?

COUNTESS looks at NOBLEWOMAN, attentive. She isn't trying to intimidate her guest, just hear what her concerns are.

NOBLEWOMAN

That somehow if I spend enough time with you, I'll fall in love? I'll betray my Master, you vile monster? I'll never betray him. Not for food, not for money, not for anything. And now that you left me unguarded, I think it's time I come back to him!

COUNTESS extends a hand to stop her, but NOBLEWOMAN moves too fast, throws her chair back and leaps to the boarded window. With the hammer she hid in her dress, she smashes away two of the boards, allowing sunlight to stream in directly onto COUNTESS.

COUNTESS's skin begins to smoke, and she hisses and recoils in pain. The sunlight is not enough to kill her, but it is clearly a very unpleasant experience.

NOBLEWOMAN hefts a broken piece of board to defend herself with, expecting an attack from the vampiress. But no attack comes. COUNTESS just looks at her sadly, regretful that her hospitality has not taken root.

NOBLEWOMAN

You... You... Stay back!

COUNTESS makes no attempt to approach her. Wincing and getting a hold of her pain, she sits still and attempts to take another sip from her glass, to show her unflappability, but her hand trembles, and she drops it. It shatters on the floor. Even the vampiress is vulnerable and in pain.

NOBLEWOMAN

I... You... I'm sorry?

NOBLEWOMAN is unsure that she is even saying that, but she stands on her tiptoes and holds the board over the hole she made, providing enough shade for COUNTESS to safely stand up and move out of the danger zone.//

### 
    
    
    * M I S A *

Bust, bust, bust. Everything a bust. I'm in the United States of Bupkis. Nothing good on Raye from the club, really only one piece of pro gay advice. Watari was mad at me, clearly, and was gonna make a stink about it, but our stop the next day was the Julio Allero case and that was over so fast he didn't even have time to be a bitch about it. 

I mean, yeah, I figured some stuff out on the Allero thing. I got the people's names and the charges really fast, and it wasn't one of the blanks I had to fill out, but I also figured out that Allero must have had the same kind of gun Naomi did, the one that Graves grave out. The moment they did ballistic analysis, the entire investigation just went away. It probably wasn't magic then, because even if the bullet had like really tiny magic runes on it that mind control you into ending investigations when you look at them in a microscope, the guys in the lab don't have the power to say "stop investigating this". So Graves probably wasn't some kind of supernatural shinigami, but whatever he WAS, I had no clue. So I guess I learned all that, but still, nothing GOOD. Raye wasn't even on that one, and he wasn't on this one, either.

Since the BB case wasn't actually an FBI thing, they had no records, so we were in the archives basement of a regular-style police station. There were rows and rows of boxes, and binders of papers, and one of those microfilm readers. Or microfiche. Whichever one it is. The guy at the desk barely looked at us before going back to his computer, and on the radio, bells were jinglin'.

I stood there for a couple moments, waiting expectantly. Watari was silent. I picked up one of the slides on the table next to the micro-thing reader, and held it up to the fluorescent light. I had to close one eye, but I could read it: //「SUPERIOR COURT OF CALIFORNIA, COUNTY OF LOS ANGELES」//. Well, I sounded out all the letters, anyway, the point was I could see them with no magnification. Superpower eyes.

Watari didn't react.

"So, uh..." I finally broke the silence, "You gonna tell me where I should start? What section means what?"

"You seem confident in your ability to understand English without me," he said without looking. "Perhaps you should handle this portion on your own."

Of course. He didn't wanna pull this when he was translating for people, either because it would be embarrassing or I might grab another translator. But here, I would be dependent on him, and he could make a stink about it.

"I wanted to know what people were saying, Watari. And I wanted them to know what I was saying." I sat down and sighed. "Not what you wanted us to be saying."

"It is my job to keep things running smoothly," he said, with that little subconscious tie-straighten. "If you make a mistake, if you are careless or too open, I should smooth it over. When someone's response would confuse you, I make sure you are not confused. This is my job. And if you want it to be your job, you will learn from my example."

"Well how do you know I was screwing up, huh?" I snapped back. "You say you have the right answer for everything --"

"--I have performed this job longer than anyone," he interrupted, "I know how to assist the World's Greatest Detective, whoever they may be. I am the foremost expert in the world on this profession."

"ARE you, though?" I asked. His posture was getting more and more tired. He knew that none of our fake detective work was going to get done. "I mean, DO you know how to assist the World's Greatest Detective? Because Ryuzaki and you weren't going to catch Kira, and me and Naomi did, so, uh, us 1, you 0!" That was kind of petty, wasn't it? He sure seemed to think so. "Why do you think you know how to do my stuff better than I do? Did it occur to you I tried to tell mister garlic burger pizza man a silly story that made me look dumb so I'd be likeable and approachable, because a language barrier makes that hard? Huh?"

"You need to be a professional," he hissed. "You need to project an aura of competence and professionalism to be able to carry out your job."

"Really? Because my ability to project an aura of uncertainty and fear let me walk right through your line of fire without getting shot." I got a bit smug over that. I got debriefed. He had no idea it was me. 

"I am here to teach you the proper way to perform your task!" he snapped. Boy, was he getting mad. "I know more than you about what you need to be able to excel! Now, please, can we get back to the task at hand?"

Oh, now he wants me to do the fake investigation. Changed his tune real quick, didn't he? "You want me to talk about the phony investigation? Fine. Here's a question I need answered: How did Beyond Birthday know what Ryuzaki looked like? Because they look damn near the same. He had plastic surgery. How did he know?"

"Excuse me?"

"Nobody is supposed to know what L looks like. The Kira case was the first time he ever revealed himself, right? And you are supposed to make sure nobody saw him or threatened him. So how did Beyond Birthday know what Ryuzaki looked like?"

He sighed. Took off his glasses, rubbed the bridge of his nose. And then he sat down, like he was just so damn tired. He couldn't even pretend not to care.

"So stop me if I say something wrong here," I kept going. "I can't see how long Ryuzaki already lived but there's no way it's even 30 years. And even if he's 30, and he was a kid genius like Detective Conan solving mysteries when he was 15, there's no way a guy who never reveals his face or identity -- who never has a chance to apply any charisma which he also doesn't have -- gets to be so trusted by all the cops in the world that he has like his own special red phone line to everyone. You expect me to believe he rose to prominence like a rock star celebrity, but I know he couldn't have if he wasn't able to sell himself. I bet if I look around, L was solving cases before Ryuzaki was born."

He held his glasses as he held up his hands in a 'so what?' motion. "And? If your theory is true, what bearing does it have on your ability to determine the names of the three victims and the perpetrator of this crime, or the dates on which the incidents occurred?"

"My magical super eyes cover half of that, and let me finish! You're not L yourself, because if you could be L you'd be L and not bother with being an intermediary. So you originally served the last L, the original L, unless there were some more Ls before that. And Ryuzaki doesn't have any kind of like paper trail or evidence of stuff he did -- but how would you discover him if he never did anything noticeable? Here is this guy, right, this incredibly antisocial dude, who you tap to be the next Big Detective even though he's never done any detectivizing that could lead you to him. And he doesn't know how to contact YOU to bug you to look at him. Nobody knows who he is. Except this ONE GUY. This one dude who doesn't just know what he looks like, he's obsessed with him, he gets surgery to look like him, he's super fucking caught up in proving he is better than L. Better than this person that not only should he not know, but nobody ELSE should know either, nobody but you.

"You didn't find Ryuzaki. L isn't a garage band that got discovered. L is a studio band you put together. Ryuzaki and the birthday guy knew each other because both of them could have been L, but only one got it. And Birthday got fucking pissed you didn't choose him, and he decides he's going to prove he's smarter than L by his big, dumb, murder mystery puzzle suicide thing. To show you you made the wrong decision."

Big, big sigh. "Wammy's House. It's called Wammy's House. The best and brightest candidates to be the next L are taken in before they have had a chance to leave any traces of their identity. Nobody knows their names, not even me. Ryuzaki trusted Agent Graves with his name more than he did me; I first heard it come from Graves's mouth. Some of the candidates, like Ryuzaki, rise to the challenge and achieve greatness."

"And some of them, like Beyond Birthday, don't, and they lose it."

"Yes. They lose it." He paused for a moment, and then popped open his valise thingy. Paperwork suitcase-purse. "It's clear that you don't like me, nor trust me. But you should know I only want to help you, to help the world. You know that's why I have done everything I have done." He pulled out a manila folder. "This is our final task, then we need only wait for our agents to report in. As soon as you look up the names of the victims and perpetrator, and the dates of the crimes, I can give you this. Since we did not find much in our personal investigations, I had some private investigators do some digging. I have assembled the black dossier on mister Penber, and you can be the one to give it to miss Misora."

What -- really? Just like that? "Really? Just like that? What -- what did you find? Where? Is it really juicy? Will she get over him?"

"Inside this folder is evidence of mister Penber's philandering on multiple women while dating miss Misora, as well as his embezzling funds from the FBI for private use. She will cast him out of her heart when she reads this."

"Wow, he was cheating on her? And stealing?" Naomi’s dead fiance was a total dirtbag! This was the best news I ever got! Maybe Watari was looking out for me after all. I could play ball a little and then get her over him, free and clear, only with eyes for me. I could...

"...This is fake, isn't it?" He didn't deny it. "It's fake! You had some dudes make all this shit up? How can -- she's about to be the world's greatest detective! You don't think she can't figure out that it's fake?"

"She won't have to figure it out if she has no reason to," he said. "You have said, your skills are as an actress. If you give her no reason to doubt these findings, she will never even think of trying to disprove them. Would you give her reason to doubt them?"

I wouldn't have to. I totally wouldn't. And she'd forget about him because she thought he was a dirtbag. And she'd just have me. And we'd be totally happy and she wouldn't be consumed with grief any more. And I would be fine because I would have her and all I need is her. And we'd, we'd love each other, and we'd help the world... and I would, I would buy back all the evil that SHE did, with interest... Because SHE was so weak and cowardly and, and...

"Aaaaaagh! FUCK!" I pulled at my hair. "Fucking, this is all you do, isn't it? You pretend to be helping people, but you just, you lie to them so that they do what YOU think they should! You think you know better than everyone!"

"Coming to the States to assemble this dossier was the entire purpose of your trip!" He slapped it for emphasis. "This is what YOU wanted!"

"I don't know what I want, and that means you don't either!" The guy at the desk had dropped his paper and was now leering at our foreign-language argument. "I just, I mean, you... How can you say you're helping, how can you be backing up the Greatest Detective if you don't trust him? You think he can solve super mystery cases, but you can't trust him to know how to talk to people? You want, you KNOW she's smarter than you, but you don't respect her enough to know what the right -- oh GOD FUCKING DAMN IT!" I howled in frustration and slammed my head against the table, sending the micro-whatever flying off. "God damn it. God damn it! I got a fucking Christmas lesson!" I could practically hear the schmaltzy violins!

I sat up and took a calming breath. "Look. I don't... I don't think we're going to get much more out of this. I have some of my own money. I'll get a hotel, I'll call up the newspaper and hire my own translator, and I'll finish what I need to do here in America. I'll meet you at the airport when our flight leaves."

He nodded ruefully. He knew there was no point arguing me out of this. "Very well. I know I can't stop you. But if you care about undoing the horrible evil you were party to, you're going to return to me. You're going to discover that my way is the correct path. You're too emotionally invested... you are going to need to learn that you can either be miss Misora's lover, or her assistant, and if you have any remorse over what you did you will know the only moral option."

"Fuck you," I spat, "I'm going to be Naomi's WIFE." And I turned my back on him and got ready to walk out. "And what kind of shitty wife would I be if I didn't assist her in every way I could?"


	4. Calling Home

### 
    
    
    * N A O M I *

The next day was the first time I saw Ryuzaki actually asleep. When I walked out, he was on the couch, wrapped up around one of the cushions like a life preserver, sawing logs. It was the perfect opportunity to get him back for the times he woke me up too early.

I let him sleep. He looked like he needed it. 

Got a donut and some orange juice, pulled out my laptop. I can type easier than I can speak, but computers are still a problem because they care about very specific spelling and syntax. Browsing the Internet and searching things involves copy and pasting, and a saved document with common search words I can use. Checked the news, nothing interesting. Watched a Flash video of stick figures beating the snot out of each other. Checked the news again out of habit. What remained to finish up our investigation and our "investigation" would better go to someone with fluent language, so I didn't bother. I got out my book and started reading. I would love to say it was important literature or edifying nonfiction, but it was about Star Wars, and it wasn't particularly good. I gave up on it.

Can't watch TV without waking Ryuzaki up. No useful work to do. I always meant to learn how to play StarCraft -- it's the national pastime of South Korea the way baseball is in America or football is in Texas -- but I sucked at it. I always started building more buildings and buying upgrades and then I only had like five actual units when every alien in the universe marched in to feed me my own mineral patches. Luckily, Ryuzaki finally rose and spared me the indignity of booting up a game to get my ass kicked.

"Hmph." He grabbed himself a donut, microwaved it for exactly 6 seconds, and set it down in front of me. "You couldn't heat yours." This was true, and they were a lot softer and lighter when warmed up. Then he grabbed one more for himself and bit in at room temperature.

Usually, I don't know how to say what I want, because of my brain damage. Right now, though, my "Uhhhh..." was due to having absolutely no idea what to say.

"Yeah." He appeared not to either. "Hm."

We chewed in silence.

"So... I would appreciate it if you didn't mention, ah, certain details about the investigation yesterday."

"Mmm-hm."

He took another bite. Stared off into space. "I..." That was it. No followup. Lost in the weeds.

I guess it was up to me, then. My laptop was already here, the text to speech was ready right away. //SORRY.//

"You're right," he said with a heavy sigh. "I apologize. My behavior was... uncalled for. Reckless and stupid."

No. Wrong. Make it clearer. //SORRY I.//

"Hm?" This took him by surprise. "You are apologizing to me?"

//SEE NOT I. BAD FEEL.// There were so many signs of his emotional state. I just... didn't see them, because I didn't want to. Some World's Greatest Detective I would be.

"You didn't see how bad I was feeling, or you feel bad about not seeing? Either way. The fault is mine. I was supposed to be the teacher. I compromised our investigation due to my emotions." Bigger sigh. "Again." 

Silence. 

"I..." He finally picked up his trailed thought. "I thought I would like being L. I thought I would change the world, bring order where there was chaos. I'm not the most social person. The isolation, I welcomed it. No distractions. Nothing but intellectual stimulation. And then..."

//LIGHT.//

"And then I met Light. I don't know if I loved him. I don't think I did, but I honestly wouldn't know what that felt like. I think it was different than you and Misa. I think... I think I thought these horrible hunger pangs were simply a fact of life that everyone dealt with. And then I ate food for the first time in my life. For the first time in my life, someone understood me. Understood how you can have so much, so many possibilities, so much ability to change the world, and feel so powerless. And the hunger pangs went away. For a bit."

//FRIEND?//

"I never had a friend. Not even while I was growing up. I only had competition to be the next L. The one before me only lasted eighteen months before burning out. I swore I would surpass her. We all did. I..." He started chewing his lip. "I hate L. I think I've hated it for a while. I'm sorry you have to have that burden. Before the Kira case I would have said there was no reason for L to exist. Outside of Kira, I think there still isn't."

He didn't look at me, even near me. That didn't mean he wasn't focused on me. "The first L to offer his services to the world went by the name Lamont Cranston. It wasn’t a current reference back then, but it was a lot closer. He thought that dredging up secrets for my employers was a waste of talent and resources that could be used to help the world. But it made the pressure so much greater. And I think... I think he wasn't helping many people. I think he just taught them to depend on him."

These cases could be solved by normal police work. Like they all should be.

"But they are dependent, and you can't change that now. And Kira happened, the whole reason L ever existed, and that can't be undone. Someone has to be L now. It can't be me. Not any more. I'm compromised."

//COMPROMISE I.// I was just as compromised. My emotions, my resentment had fucked up my performance just as much. 

"Yeah. I think we all are." He ran his fingers through his hair, still staring off in the general direction of the microwave. "L can't have any connections. Any distractions. Anything that could be used to hurt him. At the very least, your assistant... your lover is a celebrity. I imagine that makes you pretty paranoid. That can't help."

//YES. POISON. BOMB. LOOK I.// Can't eat out unless we see our food prepared. Can't expose our backs for too long. Have to inspect any private vehicle we use.

"There's a system I have in place. Not for myself, but to protect agents like Wedy and Aiber who have made enemies. It's not as safe as being unknown. It can't stop anyone from trying to hurt you... but it can monitor their channels, the ways people have to look for these things, and warn you when they are going to try. I always meant to show it to you. I just... hadn't gotten around to it yet. Spaced it out." A chuckle. It wasn't happy.

//DIFFICULT L. GOOD.// He did a damn good job at being L, all things considered. Yeah. Yeah he fucked up the Kira investigation. But he was an emotional Pripyat, and the amount of that he could fight through was impressive. I still couldn't have sealed the deal without all the systems and infrastructure he set up. It was a team effort.

"I did a good job? As L?" He laughed again. This time was mirthful until he managed to choke it down. "If I did, it's only because the previous standard was set so low. You have to grade on a curve."

I chuckled at that too. He was right. Not like there was a rubric for it. He did the best he could with what he had. //XMAS.//

"Hm. Yeah, I guess you can consider the monitoring system a Christmas gift. To both of you. And a birthday present to Misa."

I think he knew that wasn't what I was saying. He was trying to push it away. //XMAS I. US. COME.//

"Come with you for a Christmas celebration? Hm. Misa and Watari return on the 24th, and I know you will want to spend Christmas Eve together alone. I know you are trying to reach out. You think you can make me less lonely, that it will help. But you know you will never understand me the way Light did, and look how that turned out. L cannot have any friends. Cannot have any vulnerabilities."

That might have been one of the saddest things I ever heard. Then he cracked a grin, an awkward smile borne of too little practice.

"But each of us is half an L anyway, so I'm not L enough to care."

### 
    
    
    * * *

Christmas is something that you always know is coming and yet always sneaks up on you. Lots to do to get ready. Misa has completely abandoned her training assignment and yet has so much to do. Everything is too expensive. The money is weird. The best things can't be bought. 

Naomi and Ryuzaki decorate the apartment. Naomi decorates the apartment and Ryuzaki puts up a wreath. They go shopping. 

Text messages are exchanged back and forth. But there is no substitute for face to face communication.

### 
    
    
    * N A O M I *

All the way back from the airport, Misa was clearly bubbling with energy. But Watari drove us, and he seemed to freeze the air around him. So even though we hugged like crazy at the terminal, it was only once we got back that she actually started talking.

"So, okay," she said the moment she closed the door -- hadn't even put away her luggage. "Let's sit down, and, like, talk and stuff. How was your time with Ryuzaki? I hope he wasn't too annoying."

I dropped the bags I was carrying on the couch. I needed to say some stuff to her too, where it was only the two of us. Well, type them and have a text to speech program say them. //GOOD. XMAS -> RYUZAKI. REPORT CASE REAL.//

"He... Wait, he's coming over for Christmas, and he's going to tell me about the case? You invited him? I didn't think..." Sharp exhale. Came to the table, brought her carry-on bag. "Okay. Okay. I'm gonna... I did something really, really stupid, okay? And I'm about to do something even more stupid. But, I mean... I should come clean. I need to tell you stuff."

Yeah, I was right there too. I hope my face conveyed that.

"I was... I was really afraid, you know? You were, all of a sudden, you were like, faking your feelings, and I couldn't tell what you were thinking, and I, I thought, I thought you didn't love me any more. I thought you were only thinking about Raye."

What? No! How could... Of course she could get that idea, if I was hiding my feelings from her. I tasted what was in her heart and thought it was good. And if I wasn't showing that, well... she didn't have much ability to like herself.

"So I, when I went over to America -- Okay, have you seen 'Asami Kotake's Pure Love Memorial'? It's my, it's my best film performance. I played a woman who was dying of a brain tumor and knew her memory was going to go, so, she makes an album of all the memories she has with her beloved, and how they met and what they do together, so she can keep the memories with her and her boyfriend will cherish her even after she passes on. So, I figured, I could make a love memorial for us, to remind you of all the time together. And, but that wasn't enough. Because if you were still with Raye, I would have to, I need to help you get over him, right?"

This had now gone from heartfelt communication to a place I did not like it going.

"So, so when I came to America, and we were interviewing people, I was looking for dirt on Raye. Like, bad stuff. Stuff he kept secret. If he was bad, and you didn't know it, then you wouldn't have to be sad any more! It would be a good thing he was gone!"

I did not like where this was going at all.

"And Watari agreed with me! He said it was a really good plan! So I asked around about him, and you, and you and him, everywhere we went. And he just seemed like, like he was a normal guy, you know? Then Watari told me... he found some stuff that was just what I was looking for. And I thought about how you would feel to see it. So I knew, I knew what I had to do. So, uh, here's a Christmas gift."

She reached into her carry-on and produced two laminated three-ring binders, laid out next to each other.

//MISA AMANE'S PURE LOVE MEMORIAL//

//RAYE PENBER'S PURE LOVE MEMORIAL//

My breath caught in my throat. I flipped each of them open.

This one had some production stills from the movie. //Behind the scenes with Misa!

"Lolita ga Gotoku" was the first project for both Misa and Naomi back in the public eye, with Misa as actress, and Naomi as bodyguard! While squibs were backfiring and film was getting overexposed, the two of them were perfectly steady for each other, even as they had to duck away from the set to perform stealth action missions! Rumors circulated about the enigmatic and enticing woman charged with protecting Misa's life, but only the two of them knew their real secrets!

Misa's friend Nori ended up finishing the movie after Misa had to bow out of acting. She did pretty good and the film got about three stars -- but the best performances from its former lead were yet to come!//

And in the other, one photograph-of-a-photograph of the paintball team, and an empty rectangle to place another image. //Shot through the heart -- and Raye's to blame!

The power couple of Naomi and Raye were already in full force, leading Los Angeles to crush Las Vegas in the Bureau Intramural Paintball League! Though they'd only been dating a few months, their coworkers said they were perfectly in sync, wordlessly covering each other and guarding each other's vulnerabilities like only two people who really know each other can! Back to back, dashing from bush to bush, eyes on the flag and on each other, nothing could stop Naomi and Raye as long as they were together!

Final score: Los Angeles Office 5, Las Vegas Office 2. MVP: Naomi "Massacre" Misora. Funniest Play of the Game: Robber [NAME? CHECK THIS] firing two paintball guns at once while diving in the air and then smacking into a tree.//

My album. The one that I would have filled with so many more pictures if I knew what little time we had. The one I'd never be able to explain to anyone else. 

My hands went to cover my face as I wept tears of joy.

"I, okay, for one, that's not a FINAL version, okay? It's a first draft," Misa rambled. "Because, you know, there were a lot of people out of town for the holiday I couldn't talk to, and everything went through a translator so there could be mistakes, and I couldn't get nearly as many pictures as I wanted. So it's more of a proof of concept." Her words got faster and faster. "And I don't know, okay, how dumb was this, like am I just making you sadder, or does it make you just want him more than me, and if, and if this isn't working we can set it on fire and just forget I ever--"

Words were not deep enough to express myself here. So I shut her up with a kiss. A long lip lock, running both of my hands up to her ears to hold her. And when I broke away, my tear-stained eyes never broke contact with hers. I picked up both of the binders, both of her pure love memorials. And I held them together, and clutched both to my heart.

She smiled, weakly at first, as the relief washed over her. "You -- both of us. We're both special and you love both of us and I, I don't have to worry about him pushing me away. Because, because whatever is in his book, can't take a page out of mine, right? Or, or because you have no problem holding both? Is that, is that right?"

Damn right it was. All of it. Part of me would never stop missing him. But I would never stop loving her. 

"I just... I was really tempted. Watari said he could make something up, and if you never had the idea to doubt it, you'd never figure it out." What? What the fuck? "And I was real tempted. Like it would be the right thing because it would make us happy together. But I asked myself, how would you feel if you found out, and, and it would make you not proud of me. And I care if you're proud of me because we respect each other. And if I respect you, and I trust you to make good decisions, then, then I need to do that all the time. Even when I am scared if you'll make a choice I don't like."

I wanted to hug her, I should have, but I was still aghast about the part where Watari was going to frame my dead fiance to get me over him. Misa caught on to that. "Yeah, I... I don't think Watari is a good person. Like he has to be why Ryuzaki is so fucked up, too. He like ran the L Succession Pool and it was all kids and they all got real messed up. He's not coming to our Christmas. I should, like, there is some shit to catch you up on. But not right now. Now I just, I just wanna see you smile and cry happy tears." She was on the verge of some herself. And she was damn right. "I'm sorry, Naomi," but it couldn't bring down her mood. "I should have told you why I was so scared instead of trying to play cool and running around behind your back. I'm sorry. It's my fault."

But on that, she was not damn right. I had my speech ready for this. All I had to do was copy it and paste it.

//SORRY I. SCARE. MISA NEAR -> SAD. FEEL SAD. FEEL FAKE. TIME. NOTE FEEL MAKE.//

She turned that over in her head. "So... You were afraid. You were making me sad? No. I made you sad. But you... Oh, you didn't feel like you were a fake. Your feelings were fake. Because they were... They were what the Death Note made you feel, oh, around this time, so it wasn't really how you felt. So that was why you were faking your emotions. Right?"

I nodded slowly. Slow was important. Knowing what I was doing was important.

"If that's all it was... why wouldn't you say something? If it's not something real, it's not something coming from you, then you don't have to feel ashamed about it. You know I know that. And you'd want, like, to tell us more information about the notebook's effects."

That was... She was right. It wasn't just wrong to conceal from her, it was dumb.

"I went to that weirdo gay sex club you investigated. And I asked the guy there for some, like, some pro advice on how to be gay. And he only said one thing. He said the secret to a good lesbian relationship is the same as the secret for a good straight relationship, or a good guy-guy relationship, or a good weirdo sex scenario: Healthy communication."

She squeezed my hand. "So. Let's figure this out. I can't call myself a good interpreter if we don't even try."

### 
    
    
    * M I S A *

Naomi looked off to the side. At first it was like she felt bad to look into my eyes, because she messed up. But then it was more like she was gathering her thoughts. Like a good interpreter, I waited.

//SCARE I.// We knew that much. //MISA NEED.// She needs me, or I need her? //MISA MINUS MINUS GREATER THAN I// Okay, that was an arrow pointing forward. So I needed her. And I did! She knew that. //SCARE.// I needed her and it was scary. //PEOPLE ELSE.//

I gasped, my heart started to race. But no. Calm down. Calm down, Misa! That is a shitty way of breaking up with someone, and Naomi is not a shitty person. If I am not sure what she meant I need to ask her instead of assuming it is something bad. Calm down. Deep breath. "Are you saying, that we should break up and see other people?"

And she looked panicked, and she nodded, but that didn't matter because it was fast enough that she didn't know if she was nodding or shaking. //NOT. NOT. NOT.// Okay. Good. Crisis averted. Crisis never-was-ed. //ONLY NOT.// We should... No, let her finish. //FRIEND.//

This was really important to get right. "So... You don't want us to see other people romantically. But you are afraid because you are my only friend. And you think you shouldn't be. I should know more people." Looked like I was on the right track. "Because... Because SHE was obsessed with one person and it made her weak. So I need to be stronger. Right?"

I was right.

"Naomi, I, I think there's something I haven't made clear enough. I said, like, you know, that without you I would be HER. And she was a bad, weak person. And I don't want to be HER. So you saved me from, from HER. But..." I couldn't hold back a nervous chuckle. "I didn't like to be her. She didn't like to be herself. But you... I like the person I am with you. I really like to be that person, not just because she isn't evil! I love feeling like I help you out! I love taking the weird stuff I know and applying it to problems! I love figuring things out with you! I love feeling smart! I love, I love feeling like I did a good job and I know it!"

Soft eyes. Soft smile.

"So, uh, now is probably not the best time to bring up some weird like submissive stuff." I giggled, being a rabbit was pretty silly. "We can talk about that, like, later! But if you want me to, to have more friends, that's fine! That's good! Because being around you makes me strong enough that I can do that. And you will help me be a better Misa, who can do that, and doesn't have to be so completely, like, reliant on one person. But I am ALWAYS going to need you, Naomi. I don't need you because I'm so weak I will fall without you. I need you because I am so happy to have what you give to me. I need you because it makes me HAPPY to need you. I want to belong to you, because I want us to belong to each other, because I just want to belong... Because belonging to you feels right. It makes me so proud to be yours."

Communicating is hard. And it's even harder when it's with someone you love, because you're afraid you'll say something or expose something that will make them stop loving you. And it's even even harder when one of you has a neurological communication disorder. And it's even even even harder when what you're expressing is something weird and unusual and you aren't sure how anyone would put it into words.

But I saw her face light up. Saw that gentle smile. She got it. We got each other. The weight was lifted. She scooched her chair over so she could lean forward to hug me, and my whole world was her warmth wrapped around me. She stroked my hair. Good job, Misa. You belong to her.

We stayed there, a little bit, rocking back and forth. Both of us cried a little. Everything was going to be okay, and like, maybe it wouldn't be easy, but we could work hard enough and we were strong enough to make it okay.

At last she pulled back. Held up a finger for me to wait. And she went over to the closet, pulled out two boxes. My Christmas presents, wrapped perfectly. I was momentarily torn between carefully peeling back the tape to maintain the pristine condition of the wrapping paper, and tearing through it to get at her gift faster. In the time it took to consider those options, I had shredded the paper. It was a jewelry box inside.

Inside the large box, there were two bracelets. On the left, a black-rose design with entwined thorny stems, and on the right, a silver rose with smooth stems. One for me and one for her? Each of them had an emerald set to the side of the rose.

She picked hers up and put it on her wrist, the smooth, thornless, perfect and gentle rose design. She handed me a card that was underneath it -- there was a stoplight on it, and next to each color, a face. Happy Naomi next to the green light. Sad, fearful Naomi by the yellow one. Angry Naomi by the red. She twisted the rose on her bracelet, it caught a bit, but she did something to slide the emerald out of the setting and underneath the surface, and brought out a polished amber. She kept going to reveal a ruby. Then, the emerald again. They rotated.

"Oh... It's a mood bracelet thingy!" I exclaimed. "One of those, you know, the alternate communication devices! So, so I don't have to worry about how you feel, right? If it's green, everything is fine, you feel good. And if it's yellow, then you're not feeling well, you need cheering up, or maybe you just need your space. And red, red is when you're mad. But it's the ONLY time you're mad, right?" My grin got wider. "So, like, if it's not red, I KNOW that no matter how much I am freaking out, you're not mad at me unless it's red. If I, like, if I go and start stapling guns to chickens to make them better cockfighters, I don't assume you're mad at it unless your bracelet is red, and I never have to worry about reading like hidden signals and getting it wrong!"

She stared at me like I was a space alien.

"Okay, it's not like I am actually going to start cockfighting! It was the first example that came to mind of something that would make people really mad!" Eager to move on, I grabbed my own black-rose bracelet and slid it on. She'd have to show me how the switcher thingy worked, later, because right now green was how I felt. Super mega green. "And then I have my own, so it's not something only you have to do, and I can easily communicate with you without you having to ask." It looked really snazzy, too. Very gothic aesthetic. "This is a perfect gift! I don't even know what could be in this other package, you already got me everything!" Also, I didn't know where the heck she would get bracelets this complicated! Maybe she had work done at that place that gave Light his custom paper-hiding watch. Those guys seemed good at what they did.

Next package! Tore through the wrapping paper like a hyena tearing through hyena wrapping paper. It was a printer paper box. Inside was... a few sheets of paper, but not nearly enough to fill it. What is this?

//MARIA RENARD:

Maria Renard is a 15 year old French magician who first appeared in Rondo of Blood in the year 1792. In the game, she is a spunky and energetic young woman determined to prove that she is more than just a "little girl", envious of the respect (and the bust size) attained by the other female vampire hunters.

SAMPLE READS

Upon selection [eager]: "I'm just the girl for the job!"

Ultimate attack [anticipatory]: "Come on, everyone! Give me all your strength!"

Victory [haughty]: "Now do you believe I'm tough?"//

I gasped. I think I may have started to hyperventilate. "This... this is a role! A voice role! I'm gonna be in a -- well, I'm gonna read for a video game, but I'm gonna ace the audition, and I'm gonna be in a video game!" A role! A gig! Misa Misa was coming back, baby! I looked down at the bracelet. "You must have hunted down someone who wanted to give me another chance! Does this thing have any setting happier than green? Because holy shit, Naomi!"

She blushed and gave a modest smile.

A setting happier than green... that gave me an idea. "Yeah, I'm gonna pop out the ruby on this... I mean, if I'm angry with YOU, then it, it's my responsibility to say why and talk to you, so I don't need it. And if we had a pink gem, like, a rose quartz, that could mean, that could mean, like 'Hey, let's do sex stuff, don't even ask me, I'm ready to go!' And speaking of..." 

Bringing up that subject brought a lot of other things to mind. I leaned my head forward onto the paper box and whimpered. "So can we please, pleeeeeease have sex now, Naomi? I'm going fuckin' crazy over here!"

She seemed surprised. Not that I wanted sex, but that I was going crazy.

"I mean, I know, I had to heal up, right? So off limits for a while. But it did heal up. And I wanted my first orgasm once I was healed to be with you, because, like, it's like breaking the champagne bottle on a boat! The Maki-Maru boat! But then we were all tense and freaking out, and then I was in America... You know that thing, right, it's called cornering because you back yourself into a corner, where like you get really close to coming and then you stop right before you crest the top, so it's like way more intense when you finally go over? I had it all worked out, like, it was gonna be a thing, I was gonna get myself real close and back off so YOU could do it to me when YOU decided, and it would be like I deserved it and earned it! So I cornered myself a couple of times, and it's actually kind of fun for a while, to build up anticipation, like, get that tension high, ooh, the music is building, it's gonna be big, hold your breath!’" 

I bonked my head against the paper box for emphasis. "And then it becomes EXTREMELY not fun and I have been in the not-fun zone for days and then talking about belonging to you was super romantic and then I had like a sexy idea but as soon as I think about sex at all I start going crazy!"

Like the cliche you are supposed to use is "there's a fire in my loins". But there wasn't. There was a giant ziggurat of logs, and twigs, and oily rags, built on top of a heap of dried leaves, with the walls shored up by old Chinese newspapers, and the whole thing was soaked in jet fuel, and it was surrounded by people holding out sticks with marshmallows on them, and then around THEM was a bunch of naked guys in body paint tapping their feet because they need to get their Solstice dance done, and they were all chanting "WE NEED FIRE! WE NEED FIRE! WE NEED FIRE!" My pussy throbbed, not like in a sexy way but like a headache throbs.

Can girls get blue balls, like when a guy needs to cum so bad it hurts? What is that, like blue ovaries?

"Pleeeeease?" I whimpered. "If you're feeling better about being around me because you realized it isn't the notebook or it isn't ALL the notebook then now would be a great time to make some happier memories to associate with this time of year and we both confessed our love so we're TOTALLY ready it's not like we're going too fast and if you're worried about sex before marriage I am only half Catholic and it's not the half that cares about that and I'm in NEED and I can't help myself and I need a powerful, sexy, gently dominant woman to bring me the relief I crave because she's so smart and virtuous she decided that I deserve it and COME ONNNNNNNNNNN!"

She gave me a gentle little smile. Warm and charitable. A smile that said "of course". She was ready.

"Wait!" I said all of a sudden. "I'm not ready! Give me like ninety seconds!"

I was out of my clothes so fast I think they hung in the air in a Misa shape for a second after I left them behind. I'm not sure if I even sprinted into the bedroom or I just like disappeared and reappeared with a "zwee" like in Dragon Ball. Second drawer in the dresser. Special Christmas supplies! A long, red ribbon you wrap the gifts with, with a pre-tied bow you can slide along it to put it where you want. Good, because I'm not tying no fancy bow! Okay, I wanna line up the bow to be top dead center of my chest, here. So loop that around, and over, so it covers up my nipples, and then get a bit of scotch tape and stick the end to my back! All right, try not to get tangled, precision and symmetry don't matter here. Loop it around my abdomen so that -- God damn it, it broke! Fine, take some MORE scotch tape, tape that back on my back, grab the rest of the ribbon, tape it back close to the same spot... Okay, I wanna loop this so it covers my pussy, otherwise it isn't gift-wrap! Nngh, oh my GOD, just rubbing that against me feels like I am going to pop, I need to get done with this quick so Naomi can get on to rocking my world inside-out! Okay so then go, just, I don't know, loop it around my thigh a bit to secure it, and tape that bit on... "Okay! I'm ready!" I shouted.

Wait, no! One last piece! I grabbed the sprig of mistletoe and held it over me just as Naomi opened the door. You smooch under the mistletoe! She was already topless, the beautiful lines of her scars on full display. She was breathtaking, but I held it together!

"Come here," I purred in the sultriest voice I had. "Don't you wanna unwrap your present?"

Nailed it!

I flopped back onto the bed, all spread out for her to take in. And she did. She took a few slow, deliberate steps forward, looking over my body, sizing me up. Like she was drinking me in but also forming a plan of attack. She put one finger to her lip, formulating the perfect, precise plan of attack that would take me to pieces.

### 
    
    
    * N A O M I *

All right, so what the fuck do I do here? 

My bi-curious experimentation in college was a mixture of drunken fumbling and occasional guidance from more experienced girls. It didn't exactly leave me with a comprehensive lesbian skillset or an expansive knowledge of pleasuring the female body (well, other female bodies). Or even how to take command of a situation. But Misa really, really, really wanted me to be the one to give her release, because that's the power I have.

And, well, there's no point denying it. I want it too. That sounds fucking great right now. But you can't just say 'here I am, ready to take you in my awe-inspiring control' and then just mash on her clit a few times like a laptop mouse. I gotta have some showmanship. I gotta know what she feels where. So, take it slow. Analytical. Poke at the boundaries so I know what I am dealing with. Delicate enough to not push her over the edge. She's going crazy but she WANTS to go crazy. I want to SEE her go a little crazy. Just a bit. The tiniest little bit. So I can release her from it. So take it slow.

She quivered underneath me. Actually quivered. Her hands over her head clutching onto the bedspread, gnawing her lip. So let's start with a kiss. A kiss for your sweetie is always a safe option. I leaned in and planted my lips on hers, and heard her moan into my mouth. Slowly, I pulled away, and she nipped at my lower lip just to stay connected to my mouth longer. She hissed in anticipation as my fingertips slid down from her neck. Neck, that's some quivering. Arm, not so much. Breast? Breast elicits a hiss. So grab them, firmly. Authoritatively, because these are mine. They are my property and they are precious to me. Don't tweak the nipple, just sort of graze the areola beneath the ribbon... She gasped.

Fuck. She was beautiful like that. Wrecked with anticipation. A ball of potential ecstasy that only I could release. Blood rushing to her face. Breath coming in little gasps. Wanting, so bad, to go at her pussy with both hands right now, but holding herself off because that wasn't hers to do, release was not her decision. It was mine. 

Stomach. Her taut stomach expanding and contracting with each desperate breath, but it didn't seem to arouse her to touch it. One finger along the inner thigh? She hissed, held her breath, held her body fast. The juices from her pussy glistened on her creamy skin. She was close, so close, I had to pull back. I didn't know the terrain yet. I still needed to get to the main event. Pull back, hold it, see how she reacts...

### 
    
    
    * M I S A *

Naomi dragged a fingertip up the inside of my thigh, right next to where the ribbon covered me up, and I gasped, I was close, SO close, the dam was creaking and stretching out. And then... and then she pulled away. Left me there gasping. I was just about to tell her "Oh come on, that was mean!" when she grabbed the ribbon and she pulled on it. The smooth polyester-pretending-to-be-satin made a zzzzzzffffft as it slid against my sensitive, aching nethers, dragged the swollen bead of my clit.

And you know how you're watching a horror movie, and there's a bunch of tension, and the music swells, and then something jumps out and makes a noise and you go "AGH!" but then it's just the cat? And you take a breath and start to calm back down but then behind the cat there's the actual monster and the fact you were starting to calm down makes it ten times freakier and you go "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!"?

That.

My eyes rolled back and I think I moaned but I'm not sure because all of my senses turned to touch and all of them were going off. The whole world was a crashing wave of hot satisfaction sweeping my body away. Time might have ceased to exist for a second there. I fell a billion kilometers without moving and the aftershocks of hot sparkling lights spread throughout my body. I realized at some point I wasn't breathing. How do I do that? Naomi would want me to breathe, so I need to get that going again, in shaky, ragged gasps.

They call it the afterglow, right? I felt like I was glowing, on the inside, a soft yellow incandescent. Still dizzy, but getting my bearings. The swirls and popping bubbles around my head were slowing down.

"Oh my God," I said. "Oh. My. God. That was... That was just like, oh my God. That was the best I ever had. Was that, like, because I was in the corner for so long, or because you did it and I belong to you, or, or... FUCK. How did you DO that? Do you have like some secret chakra point? Because if you have a secret chakra point you have to tell me."

And she looked back down at me. She was proud of herself, and me. Happy to see me happy, content and satisfied in her expert care. But also... sheepish. Kind of embarrassed? Little bit of a crooked grin?

"Oh my GOD!" I said. "That was too early, wasn't it? You didn't even want that to happen yet!" I found enough balance to sit up and punch her in the arm, but playfully. I mean I wasn't actually mad and I could never really hit her, you know? But come on. "I told you I was going crazy! Time was a serious factor, you can't just wind me up like that and leave me after I've been wound up for a week! If I hadn't cum right then I would have actually exploded and then you would have to clean up Misa chunks!"

She shrugged slowly, gave a little aw-shucks smile. "Ehhhh... Feel? Ah, uh, measure?"

"Okay, like you needed to calibrate for my body or something? Right?" Right. "That's still no excuse, come on! You can't trust calibrations when I'm all crazy and wound up anyway, like, that's not an accurate measure! Okay, strong independent submissive Misa who has her own personality is enforcing her boundaries right now: if I've been going crazy for that long, forget the dramatic buildup, just let me pop already! Yeesh!"

She bowed a little, not in shame, but in a 'yeah, you got me' sort of gesture. 

"Still though, as the inaugural champagne orgasm on the Maki-Maru boat, that was great! And, you know, I deserved a good feeling, because I was good. Right?" Also right. "But you didn't get anything! And it is only right, because I belong to you, that I, like, serve you. That kind of thing. Right?"

Oh, was that ever right. She was looking forward to this, I could tell. And she should be! She should be powerful and know it and all that. I guess she was more confident that owning me like this was okay and not hurting me since I spoke up. So maybe it was a good thing she tried to keep me wound up for too long, because it got me to show right away that being my own person and belonging to someone I love were totally compatible.

But seriously, though. Come on. Don't try and leave me hanging like that.

"Okay, so, stand right there... because when you worship someone, you kneel, right?" I said as I flopped out of bed, almost but not quite getting tangled in the ribbon. "And because you did something to me, I must show my respect by doing something for you, so you don't need to do anything..." I knelt before her, bowing like a Western knight getting knighted. After lowering my head in reverence a moment, I reached my hands up to her black leather belt and undid it. Gave it a good tug, got it halfway out, wiggled it, and pulled it the rest of the way. "Because you deserve to be served." Then I thought a second. "Actually you do have to do one thing. Put your heels close together so I can get your pants off. But nothing else!"

She chuckled. Which was okay, it was funny, and we're still working things out, you know? I giggled a bit too. But she pulled her legs together. I grabbed the big metal ring on the side of her boot that let me unzip it easily, and okay TECHNICALLY she also had to lift her foot so I could take her boot off but she did that automatically and it didn't really count. Once the zipper was all the way down, it was easy to pull off. I pulled off her athletic sock, too, because it would be silly if she was standing there and the ONLY thing she had on was socks. Are you supposed to kiss feet? Is that just like a royalty thing or a sex thing, or is it only a sex thing for like certain feet people? I don't think she thought feet were sexy either, but to show my reverence, I cupped it in my hand, and planted a kiss on the top, on her pale, smooth skin. 

Other boot. Same deal. Pull the zipper, off with the boot, off with the sock. Then slowly, cradle it, and kiss the top. Because she was beautiful and powerful from her head down to her feet. 

I hooked my hands onto her waistline and pulled her jeans down. They were loose, gave her better range of movement for kicking people, and I didn't have to pull hard or wiggle them. I went slowly anyway. Centimeter by centimeter, revealing her thighs, her knees, her calves, so powerful but so elegant, her muscles so perfectly toned. One scar at her abdomen from a knife wound. One extending a bit down her thigh from her fall. A surgical scar on her knee for its many repairs. All of them beautiful, all of them powerful, testaments to a woman who could not be stopped. I shuddered as I ran my fingertip across the toughened flesh of each one. Honor them. Worship them.

All that was left was her black panties. Time for me to unwrap my most precious gift. I slipped one finger beneath the scalloped satin on each side, held my breath, and slid slowly down. Like I was opening a holy reliquary. Her pubic hair was a wild untamed thicket. Her outer folds were puffed, glistening with her arousal, with her engorged clit poking up like the lady on the front of a sailing ship, leading the way to the horizon. Deep breath. Soak in the awe of what I was seeing. I think she stepped out of the panties on the floor but I didn't dare look away.

All right.

So what the fuck do I do here?

I know how to please exactly one pussy, my own. And it's different when it's your own. You know, like your own body, things feel different. Like the way everything in your mouth feels WAY larger than it actually is, because it's got so many nerves, so you tell the dentist "yeah it's like five centimeters back" and it's one tooth away. And I use my fingers, not my mouth! But I am not going to let that stop me, because Naomi is here to guide me! And there are some things I know. Like, they call it "eating pussy" but there's no way I actually chew. It's tongue and kissing. I'm not a good kisser, but I'm learning, I'm experimenting!

Her thighs were shiny with her anticipation. I closed my eyes. Stuck out my tongue. Licked the underside of her snatch.

She was metallic, but not the same kind of metallic as blood. Salty from her sweat. Kind of sour, a little? I could definitely enjoy this taste. Be real, Misa. Who I am, who she is -- I would have enjoyed it no matter what.

I could hear her purr, which meant I was doing well so far. I gave her another lick, longer, slower. Feeling around. Wiggling the lips of her labia ever so slightly back and forth with my tongue. Seems simple enough. I scooched in a bit further, now my mouth close enough to plant my lips on hers. I sort of teased her clit with my upper lip, but didn't go too far, because I figured pubes caught in my teeth wasn't sexy. I cupped my lower lip on her underside. I was kissing her pussy, and everything was right with the world. I pushed my tongue in, around, just poking here and there. And then poking a few more places. Okay, I was flopping, kind of flailing about like an unsecured fire hose.

And I know I am not a good kisser. I am learning. I need Naomi's help, and she gave it! I felt a tug on my scalp, and realized she'd grabbed both of my pigtails. And she started to steer me, kind of, like handlebars. She angled me a little to the right, then pulled me up, so her clit was right in front of my mouth. That's where I should be. I licked it full-on, and that seemed like she liked it, judging by the moaning! Okay, so, go more there! I tried not to sneeze because her pubic hair was right in my nose, but I kept it cool. Pucker my lips around her, and then, I started teasing it back and forth with my tongue. Left, right. Left, right. And now a swirl around it. And flick the flap of the little hood above it. Her moaning got louder, deeper, more guttural, she was loving what I was doing. But she didn't let go of my pigtails. I didn't really want her to. 

"Nngh, mmmfh, rrrrngh," she started to grind her crotch into my face as she got more heated. Pulled on my pigtails every time she thrust forward, to mash us together, moosh my lips against her hot skin. "Nnnngh! NNNNNGH!" I could feel the shudder in her abdomen before her hands quivered. She gasped in pure pleasure, pure relief, relief I brought her. Her love juices oozed down my chin. Before even a second, she was pushing me down, pulling me in, getting my face all in here to lick up her orgasm. Which I did with aplomb, lapping away at her lips as she steered me back and forth to hit the right spots. I'm not sure if she came again, or it was still the first time, but her moaning didn't let up. I let her guide me through her, closed my eyes, just rode the wave of bliss.

Finally, she seemed like she was satisfied. Not as wound up as I was, but she definitely needed relief. She pulled me upwards to signal to me to stand, and I did. I stood before her, messy ribbon dangling here and there. My chest swelled and my chin was held high. I did it. I was a good girl. I was a good girl for her, and she loved me, and I helped. She gave me the most tender smile and stroked a strand of hair from my cheek.

"You make me the happiest person in the world," I said, and never have I said anything more true.

Then she shoved me back onto the bed with her hand between my legs, showering me with kisses.

### 
    
    
    * N A O M I *

It was after sex. Both of us were satisfied, laying in each other's arms, positively glowing. Before, I would be able to recall the specific word for that. I also didn't give the slightest shit that I couldn't. 

"Did I tell you how amazing that was?" Misa said, mostly into my chest. And she had. Many times. "Because that was amazing. Totally worth it. Eleven out of ten."

"Mmmm." It sure was. I let my hand rest on the back of her neck. I felt better than I had in years. Relieved, satisfied, beautiful, tranquil... powerful. 

"Mmmph, so," Misa said as she flipped over and scooched up to the pillow, to lie next to me. "Just like you apparently shouldn't shop while you're hungry, I feel like, now would be the best time to talk, like. About sex stuff. For our healthy communication and that."

I slid my hand under her shoulders to rest on her far side. Go ahead.

"Okay so first, I KNOW I've been pushing the vampire blood thing too hard. Because, you know, for a while it was a sexy thing we could do without me snapping anything off, and it's like I didn't even realize how hot it was, so I was putting it through its paces. But you were probably getting a liiiittle sick of it. So you are still my sexy vampiress, but, like, I don't have to say that ALL the time. Show, don't tell, right? And I show that by being yours."

Agreeable so far. I liked Misa's blood thing because she liked it. But variety would be nice.

"And like, I know, okay, vampires aren't real." Then she paused, and I think we had the same realization at the same time. "Actually, I DON'T know vampires aren't real. Like, gods of death are real. And magic has to be real. So, like, maybe? Let me start over. I know that there is a very small chance vampires are real, and if they are, that I know any. I know it's a fantasy. But, you know, making a fantasy, telling the story, creating a narrative, that's my job and I love it! So that's why I'm always like making sure our details fit the story I'm making. If you wanna be a part of that too, that would be really cool."

Yeah, it would. Sexy collaborative storytelling. Some of it seemed like it'd be hard to integrate.

"...I had it worked out that being in direct sunlight just turns off your powers but doesn't hurt you. That was how it worked for the original Dracula." Little conspiratorial giggle. "Also, you can eat garlic just fine, because garlic is only a weakness if you have some kind of bloodline curse or vampire allergy. Like mirrors, running water, all that stuff. Same deal." Ah. Makes sense, I guess; vampires had so many apocryphal weaknesses you'd think they couldn't get anything done if they were all true. "Man, being one of the vampires who has to count anything they find in a pile has to really suck, doesn't it? Talk about losing the vampire lottery."

I giggled right back. This was fun. Would a vampire lottery pay out in blood, or would you buy the tickets with blood but get paid out in cash? Or is it a lottery to win a vampire? Many questions we might some day answer. No rush, though. I tapped her on the stomach, then a bit further south. "Hmm. Own."

"Right, of course!" she agreed. "Whether as a sexily occult ruler of the night or a normal human who I love and trust very much to belong to, you own that part of me. Or the orgasming part at least, the part part is still ATTACHED to me. Like, I thought it could be a thing, like, you decide when I cum, and then it's like I earned it! It's something to be proud of. I would definitely want to try it again." I liked the sound of that. Me in control. So I could reward her for being good. Make her know I was proud of her. But then she got serious and pointed a finger in my face. "But there's a limit! Like don't shut me down for weeks so it stops being fun. A few days, tops."

"Mmmmhhhh..." I put my finger to my chin in contemplation, like I really had to consider whether this was an acceptable condition.

"Oh, quit it, you!" she said with a playful bop. I stuck out my tongue. I was the boss and the vampire, I got to say what goes! But of course I'd never say anything that made her unhappy. And she knew.

"Mmmph, good. We can do stuff with that, too." She snuggled up into my shoulder. "I got lots of ideas at the sexaterium. I figure, we're already kind of weird, let's just try weird stuff and see what we like. Ooh, and I got an idea, from that one guy with the collar!"

There were many men with collars there, but I knew she had to be talking about Marvin. Nice fellow. Farts so bad they called in a HAZ-MAT team.

"So like, what if I was a pet! Not a dog or a cat, but like a bunny! You know, bunny ears, fishnet stockings..." She batted her eyes up at me. "Make a whole character for it, and you would pet me, and lead me around, and I'd nuzzle you, and I've been turning over in my head if I can make hopping sexy but I don't know if I can pull it off."

I already had a pet Misa, to be fair. But if Bunnicula could be a vampire rabbit, then a vampire could certainly own a rabbit. And let's face it, who doesn't love a Playboy Bunny outfit? Fuck, looking back, I probably should have realized I was bisexual sooner than I did.

"Wait a minute, this is all about me, isn't it? I shouldn't be jabbering like this, because you are the boss here! What about your weird thing, what do you want to try?"

I did have something. Something I'd been turning over in my own head. But there was no way...

"Come on," she said. "No judgment, I don't think I'd be able to if I wanted. You could tell me you wanna, like, drown me and punch out my teeth and then have sex with a killer whale, the worst I will say is 'I would prefer not to do that' and then I wouldn't lose any respect for you. C'mon."

Of course. C'mon, Naomi. There is no shame with her. So I grabbed the notepad off the nightstand and got to doodling.

"A spiral. You want to spin me. No. No, that's my face. You want me to have anime nerd glasses?" She was messing with me a little, I think. Just a bit. I drew in a simple, crappy looking watch on a chain. "Oh, is that like, hypnosis? Like you wanna hypnotize me?"

She paused. "...Huh." She was thinking, not leaping at it with joy. I knew she wouldn't make this awkward, but I also didn't want to make her sad if there was something I wanted that she couldn't do. "...I don't get it. Why?"

She wouldn't have thought less of me, but this was the worst response. 'Why' was a good question, I was uniquely ill-equipped to answer. 

"I mean, I would have figured, you wouldn't want anything to do with that," she continued. "Because it's kind of like what happened to you, and that was REALLY scary. Hell, I don't even wear my sleep mask any more, I am so freaked out by being blindfolded."

Guess it was a small favor that I wasn't asking to tie her up. I tapped the pencil on my chin. It was... hard to articulate even to myself. We were building her, a new better Misa, and to have that kind of deep, visceral control, to reflect that whole thing... //MAKE. HAVE?// I was getting too flustered to even write.

"Make something. Have something. Have me, right? Because that's kind of what we're doing already. But I mean..." She sat up and started tapping her finger on her chin, mimicking my movements. "I mean, if I was playing you, and my character was into like mind controlley stuff after having something like that happen to me... Well, it's a dramatic metaphor, right? Like, you want to be powerful. Being powerful is sexy and it's good. And that was something bad that happened to you that made you powerless. So, like, the way I would do it, is... You have power. Because you wanna know that you can. And you know that it can be very bad, but you, you are better than that, so you want to prove it is good too. Because you're stronger and better and make people happy. Something along those lines?"

I... Hm. You hear about people processing their trauma through sex. I don't think I ever heard it put so bluntly and simply before. I think she was right. I gave her a little head shake of dawning realization, but she didn't react until I wrote my response. Damn, I did it too fast, I have got to stop doing that. At least I was calmer now, in a better space to articulate myself. //MISA MAKE <\-- NEW// Then two separate balloons. //GOOD ->// and //SEX ->//.

"Oh, because we're like, you are helping me make a new me. So it's like that, only, like the super powered up version that we have like more direct enjoyment of. That's also a pretty good dramatic metaphor!" Don't sell yourself short. They were both pretty good. "But if it is a dramatic metaphor, then, well, it can't be like on TV and movies, right? Like you can't just flash a light at me and say 'you must go kill the Prime Minister'. Because if it was that easy, like, how would we have any Prime Ministers left? Like everyone would be a brainwashed assassin after every election."

If sleeper agents who have their memories suppressed until a trigger is spoken are real, and they are, then there has to be SOMETHING to it. But Misa had pointed out something very true in a very Misa way. It couldn't be easy, but I didn't know what it could be. I hadn't done much research into it. It was a flitting, half-accepted half-loathed fancy that I didn't look into. Some kind of altered state of consciousness. Suggestibility. Vulnerability. A lot of vulnerability to savor, to cradle in my hands and protect.

"So like it miiiiight just be made up for fantasy stories when they can't figure out how to make the plot happen?" she speculated. "But it's probably based on SOME kind of real thing. Some way where you can, like, control what I think, or tell me what I think." Then she reached for my hand and smiled. "All right, I'll give it a try. I mean, we'll have to do some research on how it works and if it works. And if it's too scary or weird I'll chicken out. But I'm definitely happy to try it out with you." She blew an errant streamer of hair from her face; I'd pulled some out of her pigtails and it was being unruly. "I mean, if anyone can control my mind, I'd be happy for it to be you. Lord knows I don't have a handle on the thing." We both laughed. "Just, you know, I don't wanna be a zombie. If that's a thing. More like... 'Misa plus'. Like really getting into a role you made for me to be. Misa, the Director's Cut, with some little enhancements and edits to bring out what you wanted to say. Misa: Reloaded. No, actually, not that one."

I'd love her to play as many roles for me as she could. Because it was all one role: the talented, versatile Misa Amane. Also? I kind of wanted her to just sit next to me all day and come up with explanations for things.

"Mmm, I guess I have some stuff to do," she continued without looking away. "Gotta do some character work for my bunny, and see how hypnosis works. Mmm, but not right now. Right now let's just snuggle until..." Her eyes snapped wide open. "Shit! God damn it, tomorrow is Christmas Day!" She threw herself out of bed all of a sudden. "There's something I gotta do tonight!"

Midnight Mass was a Catholic thing, wasn't it? "Ahhh, and, uh... Church? Church?"

She paused. "Shit, there's TWO things I gotta do tonight!"

### 
    
    
    * * *

"Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It has been, uh... I think four? Yeah, four. Four years since my last confession."

"What troubles you, my child?"

"Well, that's kind of the thing. My big sin, it doesn't hardly trouble me at all. I did my best to earn forgiveness, and I really feel forgiven. It's weird, you know? You don't expect it to have, like, a conclusion. So I actually came in to make sure I did enough. Check to see if God was cool with it too, or if I should go back to feeling bad."

"God loves and forgives all His children. For your sins, he offers penitence to cleanse your soul, so that you may be unburdened. Tell me what you have done, and I will tell you what else God requires of you."

"Okay. Now, before we start -- you can't EVER tell ANYONE what you heard here, right?"

"I am an intermediary between you and God. I would sooner take my own life than reveal what you said to Him in confidence."

"Good, good. Okay, so, without revealing any details, any specifics, or anything about who they were... are you allowed to tell me how many people have confessed to you that they were Kira? Or is that also confidential?"

"...You are not the first and will not be the last."

"Oh, great, that's a relief. Okay so this story actually starts last year..."

### 
    
    
    * L A W L I E T *

During the 1970s, as Japan's economy began taking off, the country looked to the West for trends to mimic and Western companies raced to exploit the new market. Because Christmas is a commercialized holiday and less than 1% of Japan is actually Christian, there were no real extant Christmas traditions at the time. So the head of Kentucky Fried Chicken in Japan saw an opportunity, and began to market buckets of fried chicken as a traditional Christmas dinner, perhaps evoking the collective unconscious idea of the turkey dinner with a modern spin. Japan, hungry for new trends and things to spend money on, wholeheartedly embraced this new tradition. Now statues of Col. Harlan Sanders are dressed as Santa all across the country, and the Christmas Eve meal of choice is universally accepted to be the bucket of fried chicken, and families reserve theirs weeks in advance and stand in line for hours. As most Japanese celebrate Christmas on the 24th -- only those rare Christians really celebrate the actual day of Christ's birth -- I didn't have to offer much of a bribe for someone's bucket to get them to go back in line again.

"Hideki!" Misa greeted me at the door with my assumed name. Her other guests had seen me under that name. "And you brought the chicken! Merry Christmas, come in, come in!"

Coincidentally enough, around the 1970s, Fujiya started marketing strawberry sponge cakes with whipped cream as "Christmas Cakes", which they presented as an American tradition even though they just made it up themselves, and American cakes on Christmas are fruitcakes and not highly regarded. So to honor a holiday that almost nobody in the country actually believes in, the authentic Japanese tradition was made up by an American company, and the cool imported American tradition was made by the Japanese. I have always found that amusing, though I have never been able to precisely articulate why.

I set our two buckets of chicken and various sides down on the dinette set I'd bought for Misa and Naomi's apartment. The other guests were already here: Naomi's father Kenji Misora, Misa's coworker Nori Kaku, and Misa's friend Ami Akino. The latter was who the Second Kira had dragooned into sending the tapes to Sakura TV under the pretense of a "poltergeist prank". Either there were no hard feelings, or those dots remained unconnected. Watari remained outside, maintaining the perimeter. Misa did not know that he would not have attended the festivity when she barred him from it. Then again, until recently I would have declined as well.

I found Misa's action understandable. There are things I won't trust Watari with either.

Kenji was looking awkward on the couch, with nobody his age to speak to and undoubtedly somewhat uncomfortable with his daughter's homosexual relationship. The fact he came and his wife did not indicated they either did not agree on how to address this new development, or that they flipped a coin.

"Hideki, this is Nori, Ami, and this is Kenji," Misa introduced while sort of twirling her way back with the chicken buckets. "Kenji, this is Hideki Ryuga. Not THAT Hideki Ryuga, his name is just Hideki Ryuga. And of course you know Naomi! It's okay, we told everyone her real name." If Misa wanted to get affectionate, it would likely be more awkward to have to use a false name. She planted a peck on Naomi's cheek without breaking her stride. "And four people officially counts as a party. See, I told you I could throw together a last second Christmas party!"

Naomi made a conciliatory shrug, 'yeah you got me'.

Relieved of my offering, I just stood at the doorway. My experience with parties so far was limited to watching video footage of them from afar to see who associated with who. I had no idea what to do while attending one. 'Drink' seemed the obvious answer, as there were several bottles set out with cups and shot glasses. "Hm. May I have a drink?" What would be a good drink? Something that didn't taste much of alcohol, but was not too obviously 'girly' lest I be mocked. Traditional Japanese would be the safest bet, so, "May I have a cup of sake? Warm, please." Sake was traditionally served warm -- helped mask the taste. 

"Comin' right up!" Misa chirped, but it was Naomi who went to the drinks. Sake wasn't quite as traditional when served in a red Solo cup but that part was not my fault. She poured me a cup, stuck it in the microwave. Also not traditional.

"So. Hideki, right?" asked Kenji. He had a snifter of what looked like bourbon that he hadn't drunk much of. "You must have worked with my daughter. On the Kira case. Can you... tell me how that went? Because the two of them are no help."

"Come on, you know that's a secret," Misa almost sang. If she had to keep their deeds a secret, I suppose she could at least act as though they were a fun secret to keep.

"Hmph. Yes. Unfortunately, L swore us to secrecy about the details of the case. Security reasons." Kenji's shoulders drooped. Disappointed. I glanced over to Naomi as she handed me my sake. She seemed less stoked about the secret than Misa. Hm. "However, L has given his authorization to give out an... executive summary." Sip. Absolutely awful. I almost shivered from the bitterness of the alcohol. Only certain people have the genes to taste alcohol and I am several of them. But my social role had been played, and nobody would note I never took another drink. "The official story L has given permission to reveal is thus: Misa tricked Kira into revealing his identity. Then Naomi cornered him and shot him in the head before his escape."

"What, really?" Nori asked, looking up from the piece of paper she was filling out. Likely an order form for some model kits. Hobbyists like her are hard to shop for as they know much more about their area of interest than their gift-givers, so it is only reasonable to let them choose their gift. "Holy shit! That's, like, wow, Misa... Wait a second. Is that what happened, or are they just allowed to say that to mess with people because nobody will know otherwise?"

At this Naomi did seem more enthused. Looked off to the side smugly. Took a long sip of her drink, which would undoubtedly be a screwdriver. A functioning language center wasn't needed to give a 'wouldn't YOU like to know' smile.

Nori did not know what to believe. Ami appeared as if she thought it was a joke, and a funny one. But I glanced at Kenji. He looked to Naomi, then to me, then to Naomi. He knew. A nod of respect, and he scooted to the side to allow me room on the couch. 

"Okay, so, just like I said, no gifts!" Misa said, playing hostess. "No gifts, and ACTUALLY no gifts, because this is a last second party."

Naomi made a sort of 'well, actually' noise.

"Okay, except for..." Misa drew her words out to stall for time as she tried to discern Naomi's intent. Followed her sight line to the chicken. "No, that doesn't count. Food isn't a gift. If you never take it back to your room it's not a gift, it's party supplies."

Naomi, an 'are you sure about that' head tilt.

"Well, or..." Misa said. Naomi twisted her wrist. "Okay, yeah, if you get like a motorcycle, or a car like in a commercial, then that's a gift. If you take it back to your room, OR to your garage... Look, it's a gift if you're going to use it later!"

"What about a stocking full of chocolate that you eat right away?" asked Nori.

"Okay that is a gift -- dinner isn't a gift! There is a special dinner exemption, uh, in the legal code, probably right under the official number of times you have to pound mochi for it to count. Can we agree that dinner isn't a gift so we don't have to give it back?" said Misa.

"Motion seconded," Ami said around a drumstick. 

As I walked to sit on the couch near Kenji, Misa tapped me on the arm. "Hey. Uh. About gifts. Naomi told me a little. Said most of the story should be yours to tell if you want. But that I should be a bit nicer to you. So, how about for Christmas... we call it even." Looked back at the room, even though she spoke too low to overhear and they weren't interested. "You know. The stuff."

I nodded. "Squaresies. Happy birthday."

"And a merry Christmas to you!" she said, all back to the cheerful hostess. "Now that everyone's here, feel free to serve yourselves. This is a casual dinner. But don't bring any mashed potatoes on our couch, it's a nice couch." Technically my couch. Probably encompassed in the deal to call everything even. I would object to how much I had paid out compared to Misa if I had to earn that money. "So fix your dinner, take a seat, because it's time for the movie. You know, I was GONNA show Asami Kotake's Pure Love Memorial..."

"...Seems a liiiiittle self-indulgent," Nori said.

"...which is why instead, we are going to see a classic, perhaps the definitive American Christmas film," Misa continued. Naomi held up a DVD case for her. //DIE HARD//. "You know when you go to film school, they make you watch Die Hard for like every class. So I've seen it a zillion times and picked apart the editing, the lighting, the mise-en-scene... And that movie is still fuckin' great." Pause. "But Kenji and Hideki, if you HAVEN’T seen Love Memorial, I still have like fifteen autographed copies and you can just take one. That's not a gift either. That's a public service."

Never saw Die Hard. Or most movies, outside of when trivia about them might be useful to a psych profile. Probably a good time to catch up.

Kenji nodded and slightly lifted his glass to me when I sat next to him. I reciprocated. Naomi took the love seat, with Misa half in her lap. Ami next to me, with the food. I was not much interested in savory flavors myself, so I helped myself to the miniature chocolate cake I had selected as a side. Nori pulled up a chair and we partook of the tale of John McClane. It was dubbed, which I took as Misa's concession to the rest of the group. She would undoubtedly prefer to see it in the original language out of a desire for artistic integrity.

Misa interrupted a few times in the first couple of minutes to point out this and that in the movie. How the film established Holly’s watch. How it set up the viewer to think about John’s feet without calling attention to it. The establishing shots that provide the sense of space in which the action exists. How the dubbing voice actor was inferior to Alan Rickman. I only half paid attention, and after a little while, Kenji gave her a look. In the dark she couldn't tell what sort of look it was, but she appeared to play it safe. For the rest of the film she was pointing to the screen, and whispering in Naomi's ear. 

The film was enjoyable. Less explosions and gunfights than I'd been led to believe there was by cultural osmosis, but the explosions and gunfights that were there had weight. I was honestly interested in Misa's analysis of the film's construction and her trivia facts, and wished she had kept them audible. It must be nice to have something like that. Something to share not because it is useful but because you enjoy it. Someone in whom you can confide secrets that don't matter at all.

Light? I don't know. Maybe I was too cautious. Or I am simply incapable of reaching out for something like that. It was still always about the case -- about how he could manipulate me. I think the closest I have actually come to a friendly relationship was in 2004. Memphis. Approached in person on neutral ground by Agent Graves after I had tracked down one of his Minutemen for crimes unrelated to the pistol. Our verbal dance of veiled threats somehow became a two-hour discussion of Rush's discography.

He was right, though. I have an entirely renewed appreciation for Geddy Lee. 

Lights came back up. They all seemed to enjoy the movie. Our paper buckets were now full of nothing but chicken bones. "Well, that was great, right?" Misa said to general assent. "And now, for the cake!" More cake was always good, but she had a smile that foretold some trickery. "I know I said no gifts, but, let me cut everyone a slice, okay?" She gestured for us all to stay put.

Her intentions were by now obvious, at least to me, and not to a distracted Naomi digging in her purse while Misa's back was turned. Laughing at this would be rude. I don't laugh much anyway. Still pretty amusing.

Because when Misa said "Okay, the first piece is for Naomi, because it's very..." and turned around, she saw Naomi presenting a small felt-lined box, with the black rose engagement ring looking exactly like the mock-up image the jeweler had given us. Diamond in the center of the rose blossom, faux thorns around the band. Very Gothic.

Misa gasped and dropped the paper plate she was holding. A piece of cake splatted to the floor. On top of it was a rose gold ring set with what I would guess was a teardrop diamond. Naomi saw it, and then she had to hold in her laughter.

Nori clapped. Ami realized something had happened while she was not paying attention, and started clapping while she frantically looked around for what she was clapping for. And Kenji... Kenji turned away. Then I saw it in his nod, a 'hmm, yeah, fair enough' gesture, and he turned back with a little bit of a half-smile. His daughter had been through a lot, and if this made her happy, then good.

"Naomi... Of course I will!" Misa said. "Of course, of course I'll marry you! And, and also..." She picked the other ring, her ring, off the floor. Whipped cream still on it. "Will YOU marry ME, too?" They both laughed. They held up their hands, and slid their rings onto each other. Both onto their right hands, since Misa was missing her left ring finger, and Naomi's was occupied by an existing engagement ring. And they hugged. And they kissed as if they were the only people in the room.

I guess I was happy for them. Good that they could be happy.

Shame about the cake, though.


	5. Golden Rings

### 
    
    
    * * *

Of course they have other gifts. Misa gets Naomi an appointment with her tailor to have her jacket and clothes all sized and a fancy colored pencil set. Naomi gets Misa some earrings, and some children's books to learn English with, since her reading is already better than her spoken comprehension (Christmas), as well as a boxed collection of Kurosawa DVDs and a fake ritual knife with a slot to slide a scalpel into (birthday). They can't all be hugely cathartic with great emotional significance. They can be just regular ol' nice. The knife thing doesn't actually work at all; the scalpel blade snapped off and got stuck after they used it twice. And the colored pencils can't do much to help Naomi's stick figures. But still, it is the thought that counts.

### 
    
    
    * * *

On the one hand, they will become shady figures with shadowed identities that must be secret, so a public celebration is obviously impossible. Naomi thinks the security risks of a celebration are too great.

On the other hand, it's their special day and fuck all that noise. Naomi can scope the venue, of course, but it's not going to let anyone know anything they don't already know. New L and New L's Assistant aren't getting married, Naomi and Misa are. Just don't invite anyone who makes it seem like they have an ongoing relation to L. Invite friends, wow them with what an unlimited budget can do. They saw what happened when L was obsessed with staying secret, that is no way to live. It doesn't take much for Misa to win Naomi over.

### 
    
    
    * * *

Misa in the driver's seat, the shady man riding shotgun, Naomi in the back. It doesn't matter where your hands are on the wheel as long as you have control. Don't creep into the crosswalk, but DO angle yourself into the curb so a bike or scooter can't come into your blind spot. Drive defensively, be ready for someone to cut you off. Don't try to beat the yellow light, it’s too short for that. Don't run the red light like a fucking god damn animal no matter what kind of hurry you're in WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH THIS GUY.

Misa would say that she can do it because Naomi is there, but it would be a lie. Driving is actually pretty easy once you get over the mental block of thinking that driving must be hard. And when you learn another set of road rules right after, you're gonna be driving-bilingual, and everything will come naturally. Hopefully. The actual official test next week won't have Naomi watching, but it's just a formality. Just to save the forger's time on making an ID for the real Misa.

"You took way too long backing into the space," the shady man says, "but that's still a passing grade. Okay, you wanted 'Aiko Mari', right? You got a kanji reading for that or just hiragana?"

"'Aiko Maru', and just hiranaga, please," Misa says. The man jots this down on a notepad. "I have to ask, though. The license is fake, right, so... why do you make me do the driver's test?"

"Hey," he admonishes. "I'm a forger but I still have standards. I don't care about defrauding the government, but damned if I'm going to help another god damn animal start driving these streets."

### 
    
    
    * * *

"Okay, so, I had this idea. It's like a training exercise thing. You are good at figuring out rules, right? And I never learned how to play Go. So, to help train ME to get what you're saying, how about, we learn to play Go, but I can't read the rules and have to pick it up from you? It's like a very simple Zen thing, I think, so it shouldn't be too hard. Then it's also something we can do together, you know, play the game."

### 
    
    
    * M I S A *

Able assistants perform research! This is even better when research involves looking at adorable rabbits. I had the laptop out, dozens of windows open. Naomi was lying on the couch, reading her book (I think it was by that guy who isn't Stephen King) with her head on the armrest and feet by my side, for consultation if necessary. 

We got two things to go over today, bunnies, and mind control. Bunnies are probably easier. There are many bunnies on the Internet because they are so cute. Like this guy! "Naomi, check this out! He has a pancake on his head! What a little guy!"

All she had to do was lower her book. "Awwww!" That isn't a word, so she can do that just fine, so this won't make her feel sad.

But you can't just look at cute pictures. Gotta get real, hard facts. From bunny guides. "Huh... Says here, bunnies don't eat carrots like Bugs Bunny. They only eat the leafy bits at the top."

"Mmh?"

"Eh, but that's still a carrot, so I can still go with a carrot theme. Branding." They also apparently chew cardboard toilet paper rolls. Not sexy. Go with carrot.

"Mmh."

That wasn't the only thing to look up, though. I mean, the "mind control" was Naomi's thing, so technically she could do it. But I was the subject, and I was scared of it maybe but maybe not, so I would get all the information. Then make an executive summary for her.

I would have trusted whatever she said it was. Because she is a trustworthy person, she made sure I was the one who did the research.

So it says here, hypnosis is an altered mental state, except for some people say it doesn't exist. You are highly suggestible, and you are more focused, except you also don't notice things? I figured this would be contradictory. What exactly does "highly suggestible" mean? Like you can be told to kill the Prime Minister? Or is it more like you just, like, go with the flow and are down for more stuff, like someone says "hey let's go party tonight" and you're all like "sure" instead of staying in? 

Bunnies are partiers, of course. Known partiers. At least the waitress kind, who are a part of the whole role synthesis. I imagine the fuzzy kind are... well, they can't really party because they can't hold drinks, but I bet they do something. Some kind of playing around.

"Oh my GOD!" I gasped. "Look at this, look at this!" I tilted the laptop screen over to let Naomi see. It was someone playing with a pet bunny -- she grabbed it and like play-rolled it onto the floor and it ran forward into some little plastic bowling pins and knocked them over! It looked so proud!

Naomi momentarily looked annoyed that I interrupted her again, but then she was like "Awwwww..." But still, good to note that, don't show her more bunny pics one at a time. They are cute but it can be annoying to have your attention grabbed over and over again. My bunny character wouldn't be able to do that anyway. Go bowling, anyway, she could in theory show bunny pics. What do bunnies actually do? Hmm, when they are happy, they hop in place, and they show off their bellies. And that's a sign of trust and comfort, because your belly is prime space for a predator to chomp off. So Bunny Misa feels safe around Naomi, which is obvious, but when I roll over and show her my tummy, I'm not draping myself out and showing off, my body language is more shy, inward, like I am sharing a secret.

She shared a secret with me, her weird kink she wanted to try. A lot of people would be, like offended, and I was a little scared, but it also feels good that she trusts me with it. And, like, I wasn't planning to inject myself with bunny DNA and cutting tail-holes in all my pants. I was going to just play-act as a bunny. We could put tinfoil and a spiral sticker on a colander and pretend it's a mind control helmet and just play act that too, and if this turned out to be sketchy or dangerous or not work, that was Plan B. But I was actually looking up how real hypnosis works. So that she could, if possible, just snap her fingers and have control of me.

And I know that a good researcher doesn't just Google the word and glance at a couple of pages. Come on. I found a book that got cited a bunch of times, which did have a Japanese translation, and I ordered that. Still got to go deeper.

Naomi got her mind controlled to kill herself and came back scarred and brain damaged. No matter how beautiful I found those scars, it was still the worst, most traumatic thing that ever did or could have happened to her. And helping her, like, process and deal with and take control of that was something I wanted to do. But it was also about me, too, wasn't it? I don't really have, like, a strong sense of identity. When my parents died I didn't know who I was or what to do, and that was how I was weak enough to become HER, and SHE was just completely defined by what Kira wanted. And let's be real the only reason I wasn't completely defined by everything Naomi wanted right off the bat was that she would be proud of me to be stronger than that. And we both knew I was, like, building myself. Making a Better Misa. So why would I, why would I just go through all this personal growth and effort to be able to define myself as an independent person, and then she wants to be able to take that away?

It sounds like it doesn't make sense. Like this should get me real scared. But actually when I think about it it makes perfect sense. Because if she has to do a special pocket watch hypnosis beam on me to be able to command what I am and think... well, that means she can't do that the rest of the time. It takes special effort. And I am the one who's deciding what she wants to do. So, even though I'm submissive, and influenced, this is my chance to draw a line. I draw a line around the Real Misa and what always stays the same and what can change. And there's only one person I trust to change it, because I know she is good and I know she loves me, and I know because she can do that nobody else will ever get to.

These guys say hypnosis is just using your imagination and that is all. Which is, that doesn't make sense. If that's how it works, like, people use their imaginations all the time, how is it different? Like that post-hypnotic suggestion thing, is that just imagining that you want to do something but imagining you don't remember why? Then how do you actually not remember? Why go through all the trouble if you can tell a sleeper assassin "okay so just imagine you're a normal office guy until we call you up to go kill a dude"?

Or am I hypnotized when I get really into character because I am imagining I am that character really hard? I mean, I kind of hope it's like that, being all in the zone. That's a good feeling. Not that you can't think, but you don't have to because you just KNOW. So Naomi snaps her fingers and I'm not just pretending to be a bunny, or a vampire’s ghoul servant, or I don't know like a sexy robot or something, and I AM, I'm just totally in sync with the role.

Naomi looked like she was done with her Coke. I pushed off the laptop and went all waitress-like to go get her another drink. Don't make a big deal about it, just, it's there if she wants and not a big deal if she doesn't. It's bottled anyway, I can put it back if she doesn't want it.

Waitress bunnies don't think a lot either, do they? Like that's a thing, especially about blondes. I set Naomi's drink down next to her and I asked "Naomi... am I a ditz?"

"Nnngggg..." Noncommittal. Hand out flat, wobbled back and forth like a seesaw.

"Sort of, right?" Right. "But, like, the good kind, right?"

She nodded, slow, to make sure I knew she meant to nod. 

"Like, fun, bubbly, happy ditz, right? I'm not stupid."

Of course I wasn't. She looked a little surprised I had to ask. She tapped herself on the temple to indicate her head.

"Brainy. Smart. Right. I'm a smart ditz." Kiss my ass, Watari, 'your intelligence is not very intelligent'. I have a PhD in Ditzology. I slipped back to my seat. "Ditzy bunny. Like, I titter. Tittering is a core bunny ditz competency. Tee hee-hee-hee-hee-hee!"

Naomi looked like she wasn't sold.

"Kinda witchy, huh? 'Tee hee hee! You're funny!' Better?"

Yes, she liked that better.

But ditzes are very outgoing, and my bunny character is someone who is revealing her nature to someone she trusts. So, Bunny Misa is more like, a hidden ditz. Crouching Bunny, Hidden Ditz. She feels happy but also relieved she has someone to titter with. Now, waitress bunnies apparently have rigorous training. Got to know how to mix lots of drinks and wear the bunny outfit and do special bunny poses. Ooh, there IS a carrot juice cocktail, save that recipe. I’ll need to sample these drinks to find the best one. Huh. Bunny waitresses aren't allowed to sit in chairs? 

That's weird but no, there are multiple places saying that. You always have to sit on the back of the chair, so you can be ready to hop up? Hmm. I don't know. I think Bunny Misa's 'ready' stance will be more crouched on the ground and ready to hop bunny-like. Because not only is it a cute animal-like pose, then you're kind of curled up which looks like you're drawn inward, holding something to your chest, and then I open up and expose myself when I start to move and do what she says. I guess if she tells me to wait for something and I am currently following orders, I'll sit on the back of a chair, because that body language is more at ease.

And that is, like, what everyone says hypnosis is. Being very at ease, comfortable, nothing bad happens, etc. Like, Naomi snaps her fingers, and all that happens is I feel super great about everything. Honestly I feel like everyone is protesting too much, trying to look too innocuous. So time to get more specific. Is it like a medical thing with medical opinions?

Hmm. It is. They say that you can use hypnosis to manage pain, so, that has to be SOMETHING more than just imagining it away. So more of a mind-over-matter thing. But they say you shouldn't use hypnosis to recover memories because it doesn't work and you just make fake ones.

Huh. I wonder if they do the sleeper agent thing, they make the assassin forget his memories of being an assassin, but they can't actually bring them back so when he gets activated he just gets fake memories that are mostly the same? Like I wonder if they come back to Assassin HQ and expect guys to be there that don't really exist because their minds made them up. Anyway, these research abstracts LOOK like they probably have some stuff? They are in English so I have to mark them for Naomi later. 

I can't learn English yet, because of that thing where I might not even remember the whole time I'm learning it. If I don't remember it it's not part of me. So I don't want to not be here for our wedding planning, or our wedding, or our honeymoon, or our first married time together... But after we've been married like a month we figure it's okay to miss some things.

It’s weird -- I mean, it already was, but more weird -- how I am sitting here and approaching this. Because I feel if you asked a normal person about having their mind controlled consensually, they would come from a point of like “Okay, what are the edges of my personality or identity I am willing to cede?” But I’m the opposite -- what is the minimum I want to define, giving everything else to her? I like my personality, I like being bubbly and fun, but you know MAYBE she could do some kind of tune up. And I can’t even say “oh you can’t touch my sense of right and wrong” because, uh, I kind of need her help to get that sense working anyway. Putting her needs before my own, I do that already, and making me better at that seems like a great plan. Worshipping her as a Goddess, again, already do, and making me able to do that without thinking at all? I am all for that!

But if she wanted to take away my memories of the Second Kira... Well I mean I already did that. That was important to destroy her. But if Naomi took my memories of my memories, like, the knowledge that I became the Second Kira and then beat her, I would refuse. I got forgiveness for that, I don't really feel bad about what she did because I beat her and I'm going to make it all up, but I feel like it's important to know what I am trying to avoid. According to Yoko there's a thing where like schizophrenics's medicine works super well for them, they can't actually remember how bad they get without them, so they think it isn't a big deal to miss their meds. I feel like this might be a similar situation. Got to know that I need to avoid brainwashing myself to evil again. So that’s part of like the Immutable Essence of Misa: Misa will not forget what bad things she could do, so she can know to do better. That seems like what a good person would do.

But I mean if this whole thing works then the only one who can brainwash me is Naomi. Could she snap her fingers and make me turn evil? Is that how it works? I know she can snap her fingers and make me lewd, or at least I'm hoping, because I figure that is half the point. According to what I know of hentai manga anyway. But even if she could make me actively evil instead of just bad at identifying it, she never could. That's why it matters. I wonder if that's part of the appeal? Like you're jumping without a net into like a pit of spikes, metaphorically, but you know you will land safely even though you can't steer yourself. I can see why people would like that. I kinda do.

I feel like the hypnosis is raising a lot more questions than the bunny. I kinda figured, though. Bunnies are uncontroversial and well-known to modern bunnology. What sound do bunnies make? Do they make one? Apparently they make some, but there's not a consensus the way we agree a dog goes 'wan' or a cat goes 'nya'. Because bunnies are mostly quiet. So Bunny Misa, being a timid prey waitress who only feels at ease with her owner Naomi, wouldn't talk very much, because it's not natural. I have to get across bubbly ditziness with my demeanor and body language but that's not too hard. And I should be waiting for her to talk anyway because she is in charge. So that is settled. 

When I'm doing research, though -- and this is something Watari didn't teach me because he's, well, too much of a Watari -- you don't just gotta cite sources that would stand up in a thesis paper. You can go wider. Like, everyone knows how out of touch modern critics are with what audiences want, so you look for people talking to each other about movies to get the real scoop on its quality. The less official and prestigious the source, the better, because they aren't putting on a show of what they are supposed to do. So what are hypno-philes saying to each other?

Find the personals. That's where they say what they want, and they think they can get, instead of what they think other people want to hear. And here we go. 

//F4M -- Looking For Dark Master

34 y/o female looking for malevolent force to trick me into his control, slowly crumbling my will away with mind control until all I can do, and all I can think about, is what he wants.// That sounds way worse than all the people saying how harmless hypnosis is! The part where all you think of is your master is good, but the evil part isn't! 

//ONLINE ONLY, NO R/L CONTACT! PHS will interfere with my job, so scene only control.// Huh. PHS is... yup, post-hypnotic suggestion. The thing where you make people do stuff later and think it's their idea. So she wants someone to be evil and take control of her unwilling mind, but she still says they can't contact her in real/life, and they can't make her do stuff when she's not being hypnotized. So she is like 'I want you to control me and erode all my boundaries and desires, but only within these boundaries and in accordance with these desires.' Other personals here look similar. There are more hypnotizees than hypnotizers, and the hypnotizers seem to phrase things nicer.

I thiiink I get it?

I like being submissive to Naomi. She wants me to be more independent and have my own identity, and that's why I want it, to be stronger for her. But then she can also just snap her fingers and turn all of that off, and make me just think of nothing but her. She gets to feel all that power and all that devotion, and so do I. And I'm, like, I don't know if I am thinking or not in the traditional sense but I am not worrying, I am just in the total submissive zone of knowing that the only thing that matters in the entire world is the person I love and I am a conduit for her will. 

And then she can also turn it off and I can go work to be a person with my own views and sense of right and wrong she can be proud of. Best of both worlds! I hope that's how it works. I love to be submissive to her, I'm proud of being submissive to her, and if she can turn on like a sense of ultra-submission any time she wants that isn't just hot, it also seems fundamentally right.

Like we're at home, and we're looking over a big L case or something, and I'm plugging along being a super competent assistant and then SNAP and then none of that L shit matters, nothing in the world matters, because everything is her and instead of dissolving onto a waterbed I'm just dissolving into Naomi and what she wants and what she is. But there is no evil master because I know she's the best person ever. And then I am placed back in the convenient Misa ice cube tray when it's over and everything is fine. 

So I'm more eager to try that, but to actually know how I'm not going to trust these online guides, I'm waiting for the books. Obviously I'm going to need to set up like some recorded tapes to talk myself into hypnosis. I'm definitely ready to start my bunny character work, though. I could keep looking stuff up, and I will later, but for now...

"About time for dinner, right?" I asked as I closed the laptop. "Should I make it, or do you want to make it together?" As her submissive and her servant, it is only right that I attend to her needs, but ALSO, she is a way way way better cook than I am so I'm learning from her.

She thought about it, then put the slipcover of her book into the pages as a bookmark and stood up. Make it together. Ooh, I hope this is the night where she teaches me the secret of the American fried-chicken-fried-chicken. But anything would be good, really. Anything I learn from her, anything she helps me be, is precious.

Food is also precious because MAN, am I hungry.

### 
    
    
    * * *

Misa nearly has a panic attack the first time she sees Naomi wearing the red gem. The red gem means Naomi is angry, because everything else means she is not angry. Misa begins to stammer a string of half-thought apologies to everything she might have ever done or been.

Naomi marches her over to the love seat, where a pile of dead foot skin sits on the armrest after Misa sanded it off.

"Oh! Oh. Uh... yeah. I should probably do that over a trash can or something."

It is not a fun experience to feel Naomi's anger.

But it isn't the end of the world.

### 
    
    
    * * *

Melodic intonation therapy is going much better lately, ever since Misa asked Naomi to change her playlist a little.

"Whooooooaaaaaaaa!" Misa bellows, fingering the imaginary guitar mostly in time with the licks coming out of the stereo.

"「Wake up! Our life is calling! We're smoke, but not a fire! Give us a sign that we're aliiive!」" Naomi sings into the mop as if it were a microphone stand.

Misa starts thrashing, her hair swinging in a wild arc around her as Naomi delivers the vocals.

"「This is our time!」" Naomi belts out, doubled over with the microphone-mop and standing on one foot.

"Uisaut ah daut!" Misa only knows the lyrics phonetically, but what she does know is how to fucking ROCK, cranking the neck of the imaginary guitar back and forth like she’s pumping out Pure Tunes.

"「Time to ignite!」" Naomi points out to the imagined audience and then up to the heavens, driving them into a frenzy.

"Uiru nót goin daun..." Misa’s now got her imaginary guitar behind her head, ‘fingering’ it in a frenzy.

They slam their backs together, holding up their imaginary instruments by the necks, and sing-scream in unison "「Without a fight!」"

Melodic intonation therapy is going much better lately.

### 
    
    
    * * *

The lights are dim, background noise is nonexistent. Misa lays down on the couch, looking up at Naomi's face. A relaxed place for a relaxed state. 

Obviously, Naomi is not fluent enough to hypnotize Misa with her words. Misa wrote out a script, and both of them reviewed it together, and then Misa recorded it. Naomi will always be present with her, to make sure she is safe, now and in the future. The first thing Misa will hypnotize herself into doing is waking up from hypnosis if Naomi isn't in the room with her. Since she knows one of the three pieces to the key to unlock the most dangerous object in the world, it is probably a good idea to put in some safety measures before mucking with altered states of consciousness. After that is done, then she will start to 'program' some ways for Naomi to more actively take control.

Misa slides on the headphones and clicks play on the minicassette player. Naomi holds her hand. Misa may have recorded all the speech, but she has done her best to approximate how Naomi spoke fluent Japanese, and spoke in that voice to herself. It's not merely 'like' Naomi's voice -- it IS Naomi's voice. Misa is the instrument upon which it plays.

"You're feeling very relaxed right now." the voice says on the tape. "Your mind is drifting away. You are aware of everything, but you're not aware of anything. You are listening with your subconscious mind. Your conscious mind is resting. It can rest because your subconscious can handle everything right now. It's very aware and alert, so your conscious mind can feel very relaxed and peaceful."

There is a step that the book recommended that she skips. The voice never instructs her to close her eyes, and she doesn't. Her mind doesn't drift away into the darkness. It listlessly floats into the air, to drift alongside the letters and numbers that hover in front of Naomi's face, gently rotating like an Alexander Calder mobile.

### 
    
    
    * * *

Naomi rolls the black stone in her fingers, back and forth, considering her next move in total silence.

Go is a subtle game for masters. She taught the rules easily enough, but knowing the rules is not enough to know how to win. One must know how one's stones are stronger when together. How to seek a harmonious board position. Ever appropriate for Misa, a group of stones with one empty space, one liberty to rely on, is utterly doomed. A group with two or more liberties is invincible.

In the corner... no, that won't work. Misa could play on either side of the outer stone wherever she tries to reinforce it. Hmm. If she plays here... Misa will play here, and she will play there, and Misa will play there, and that won't work either.

Go does not reward thinking many steps ahead; it requires it. The game is not played in the current turn, it is played ten turns from now. Mathematically, players can determine what groups are safe and what groups are doomed by knowing the inevitable process of each player placing the most advantageous stone in each area, so they need not actually play it out and instead contest other areas. Many things about the game of Go are mirrors of their task as investigators, or of life itself.

Both are thinking it, and Misa says it.

"Go kind of sucks, doesn't it?" Naomi is surprised at her forwardness, but does not disagree. "We don't have beards long enough or white enough for this. This is a, uh, a haiku kinda game that you play in between hours of staring at sakura blossoms falling, and I ain't a haiku kind of people."

Naomi tilts the board to the side, sliding all the stones off. Most land in the two bowls, but their colors mix.

"How about chess?" Misa offers. "All I know about chess is that it's sort of like shogi, which I also don't know. And you play that fast, with the little clocks, and Russians are all into it. I bet that would be way more exciting to learn, that could be our game!"

### 
    
    
    * N A O M I *

The moment I read the text message, Misa knew what was up. "Shit. Is that a bad news face? That's a bad news face."

She was right, it was.

"I'm not sure if I'm in, like, a place to accept bad news. If you've been edging for two days," we looked it up and it was 'edging', not 'cornering', "should you stay away from bad news because it might make you explode?" She put a finger to her chin. "I guess we'll find out, but don't blame me if bad news makes me cum. You started it. What's the damage?"

I showed her my screen. It was just a screen capture from Ryuzaki, showing an expense report. For three days ago, when we paid for a plasma-screen TV with cash.

"Ah, shit," she said. "They knew about it even when it was in cash. So we're not going to have the Illuminati bankrolling the wedding, huh?"

Ryuzaki said it was the Trust, though I don't know if that was the name of the organization that employed him, or just the expense account. Whatever shadowy power games the Trust was engaging in, it didn't much concern the world of us mere mortals, and they didn't seem to have much interest in us. L went rogue, started offering his services to the world instead of the shadowy cabal, and the shadowy cabal didn't really object as long as he solved the occasional request they had. They didn't so much care about where people spent their money, God knows they had enough of it that they didn’t need to stop any purchase. But they DID keep track of that money, even when you withdraw cash and spend it somewhere else. I don't know how they did it. It was probably automatic, like however they quashed investigations into crimes committed with their untraceable guns, even when those crimes weren't things they care about covering up.

So if we paid for our nuptials with their black account slush fund, they would know. It would be a matter of record. Not only was that potentially dangerous given it would be the last time we used and recorded our real names before Aiko Maru and Shoko Maki came onto the scene... I didn't want them to be watching. That could come back to bite me much more easily than using them to pay our rent, while they thought we were just living on Ryuzaki's expense account after the case and not setting up to replace him. So we'd have to spend our own money, our reserves we'd built up and left mostly untouched from before the case. 

"Well, I suppose that means no ice sculptures," Misa sighed. "We probably still wanna do Hawaii because that's about the only place to find bilingual priests who do lesbian weddings, even the unofficial kind. But we might end up getting married in a Hawaiian parking lot."

She leaned back, ran her fingers through her hair, apparently forgetting about how she'd been edging. So we learned that much. I sat down next to her, I dashed out a note, and held my hand on her arm. //LOVE ¥¥¥ NOT//

"I know, I know, we don't need a big fancy expensive ceremony. We didn't register anything yet anyway, I think we were both kind of expecting this." She gave me a little modest smile. "It's just gonna be a pain in the ass to re-plan everything, and now keep it under a budget, and I don't waaannnaaa," she whined. "I got bigger shit on my mind."

Okay, maybe she hadn't forgotten about being edged. 

On my note pad, I wrote a //NEED// and a //NOT// and then a double-sided arrow between them. She didn't get it right away, so I added score marks to the line between. 

"Oh, gotcha. It's a scale. So decide what is the most important, and what we can scrimp on." She nodded. "Obviously you have the final say. I trust your judgment, and also I'm sort of your part-time slave, so I can't be out here making demands and throwing a fit. I'll just tell you what I want, and you do with that what you will. Kay?" Okay. "Now like of course we're supposed to say none of it matters because all we need is each other. And that's true! It's going to be precious no matter what even if we stay in a fleabag motel next to an ice machine. But all of the stuff that isn't important, the LEAST not important part is... The dresses. I think we can cheap out on everything else. But the most important part of the ceremony to me is the dress."

I understood. She loved to be beautiful. She wanted an event, and the whole focus of that event was the symbolism of the white wedding dress. I am certain, if she had enough time beforehand to work it out and make it her own, she could have rocked a dress made of toilet paper. But she wouldn't have to.

//RENT NOT. TAILOR//

"Right. Don't rent them. Get them tailored just for us. Something that exists only for our very special day, like, a testament to it. And keep them so we can look at them or wear them." She chuckled. "I will be honest, I am going to wear mine, like, at least a few times a year. Just futz around the house in it." Then a sigh as she pulled the pad on which we'd written wedding plans out, and tore off the top page. Starting new. "Okay. I kind of overpaid on your ring because I was counting on the Trust's Illuminati money, but, we still have more wiggle room than we should because they're paying our rent and food and stuff. Then again we don't have an actual income right now, so we can't go too crazy." She was half thinking out loud, half giving me opportunities to object and insert my own opinion without having to go to the trouble of vocalizing it when we agreed anyway. "So, I think... From the accounts I still actually have, I can spring... Five, six hundred thousand yen? How about you? The same, more, or less?"

Less. Much less. She may not have had access to all her wealth but she was still a movie star at one point, and I had a hard time getting at my money after being declared dead and ceremonially buried.

"Less, got it." No recrimination or disappointment, just a fact about the world. "So ballpark it at seven hundred and fifty grand, and if you can't hold that up, I'll dip into mine some more?" Seemed reasonable. She shifted around the various papers we had out of costs and possibilities. "Each dress is probably going to run ¥200,000. That's three hundred and fifty thousand for everything else put together. We can... I think we can definitely do that."

She started listing off expenses, pausing after each one for me to correct her if I needed.

"Reception band. We can skip that, we have CDs. DJ... probably want one of those to play the CDs, instead of just a playlist. Venue, forget the beach. I bet in Hawaii the venue is much cheaper if you don't go to the beach. But the size... If Raye's family wants to come, and there are a lot of them, we'll probably have to ask them for some goshuugi to help pay their way. That is traditional, we can swing that. Decorations, just simple stuff. Out with the ice sculpture, topiary, doves... we might still get the bouncy castle?" she offered hopefully. 

I held her hand and slowly shook my head. It was goofy as hell, but I'd never been able to throw a party with a bouncy castle and always envied them. I'd have had one at my wedding to Raye, but that also never happened. Maybe like being married in June, that would be something I set aside, and didn't partake in out of respect to my relationship to him, to show he was not replaced. Or maybe I could get one with Illuminati money later.

She shivered a bit when I held her hand, but she kept going. "N-No bouncy castle, got it. Just crepe paper. And, ah, any performer other than the DJ, gone. Tent, still depends on where the venue is and if Raye's family comes, which is up in the air. Airfare, we MIGHT ask people to go halfsies, but they probably have to pay their own way. We have to get some food. Should we just cook it ourselves?" Ugh, hell no. "Yeah, right, that would be way too much work. So, cater it for cheaper. You know the best places for the best prices in America anyway. Photographer... I mean, a good photographer is still important. I know Satoshi. I might be able to get him at a deep deep discount... but I would have to do a favor for him. Something I wouldn't like."

I squeezed her hand again, reassuring. She didn't have to do anything she didn't want to, and certainly nothing shady or untoward. "His cousin's rakugo is so fucking awful," she whimpered, and half of it was from the memory of a bad performance and the other half due to the same reason she was squirming. Oh. "He doesn't know, ah, where the the the punchline is until he's three sentences past it. After two hours I was ready to chew my own arm off to escape. I'd say if you came with me I could endure anything but I don't know if I want to subject you to it." No, I would go. Photographer was worth it. It would probably be easier if both of us were at the show. We could at least privately mock the performance.

"Okay, if it comes to that we'll both go. And, and and obviously, these extra things like this whole stack here of birds we never really actually planned to have anyway and can we just do this tomorrow?" she whined. "I can't help it, I got myself all ready to explode, and then you started CARESSING me, and it isn't fair! I can't focus on finances like this!" 

I gave her my 'are you serious?' face.

"Look. I promise. Tomorrow, when Hawaii is open for business, I will get some more venue quotes. But just," she recomposed herself, put her hands on her lap. "If you want me to go without orgasm for longer, then that is your right. But. I mean, I just thought it wouldn't be fair to YOU. If some bad financial news made it so you didn't get to enjoy the premiere of my new character. It really is all about you. I mean, I'm the submissive one, I would, you know, I could just be squirming with sexual desire from filing your paperwork. But YOU need more, and it would be, why, it'd be unfair to let this deny you. I'm the one who is supposed to be all edged up, not you! Where is the justice, I ask, in leaving you out to dry?"

"Hmmm..." I squinted. She gave me a look that was simultaneously submissive and deferential, and the stink-eye. I'm not sure how she did it. But she was right, and she was obviously handling this very well without a trace of drama or anguish, ready to face whatever new situation came up. That deserved a reward. And hell -- I knew that she was playing things up, but nothing she said was untrue. She looked forward to making me feel good just as much as or more than herself.

"All right, great!" She swept up the various wedding planning papers we had strewn about. Even though she clearly was getting more and more wound with anticipation, she took the time to bang the stack against the table to make the edges square before returning it to the //WEDDING STUFF// folder. "Okay. You stay right there. I am going to bring out your new friend." And like before, she excused herself to the bedroom to get dressed, to make herself not simply presentable but memorable.

I set out her supplies on the kitchen table like she'd asked. Glasses, bottles, ice, tongs, fruit, a squeezy juicer thing. And my own little supply. I made sure the battery in the remote control bullet vibrator was charged, and awaited Misa's return.

I fiddled with the remote control, flicking it on and off, listening to the difference between the 'drrrrrrr' of the 1 setting and the 'vmmmmmmm' of the 2 setting.

At last, she emerged.

"Ta-daaaaa! Naomi, I would like you to meet my friend and your new pet, Bunny Misa."

Misa was... damn, she was stunning. And she was right about having her clothes tailored. Her fishnet stockings, all the way from her hips to her ballet flats, were perfectly fit, and the net exactly wide enough, that each bit of string made the slightest little squish into her creamy smooth thighs and calves. Her corset -- bodice? teddy? swimsuity thing? -- fit her body perfectly without being stretched tight, and the black satin shimmered but accommodated her every time she bent to the side. But it was still tight enough to show the curve of her hips and her stomach. Even the crotch, with snaps to allow it to open and expose her sex, fit her like a glove. The top of the outfit supported her breasts from below, rendering them exposed and perky, nipples poking up from her perfectly round tits and erect from the exposure to the air, from her nervous anticipation. Her shiny black gloves went up to her elbows, accenting the smooth curves of her arms, and her left hand's was custom made without her missing pinky and ring fingers, so no empty finger-holes were left to flop about. A glove for someone whose missing fingers had no impact on how sexy her body was. Because our scars make us beautiful. Her wrists had white paper cuffs, clearly just there to be a place to hold her carrot-shaped cufflinks. On her neck, a white collar with a black bow tie. And on her head, a headband from which a pair of long black ears extended. 

She was perfect. I'd say she walked out of my fantasies, but I'd never had many fantasies of a beautiful woman in a Playboy bunny outfit. Clearly, I had been neglecting a vital duty.

Her white paper cuffs rubbed against each other as she held her hands together. "Bunny Misa is, ah, a very submissive bunny and proud of it. She loves carrots, and cocktails, and most especially her owner Naomi. Naomi makes her feel safe, which is important for bunnies. Equally at home hopping through meadows and serving drinks in classy nightclubs. But she's not a rabbit, because I actually found out that bunnies and rabbits are like totally different species. She's very affectionate but also very servile, so she can show her love by serving her owner. Her ears are very sensitive but, uh, make sure to tug a bit so I know you're touching them. She doesn't have to talk very much unless she's interpreting her owner or telling her stuff she needs to know. I... I think that's all I needed to say?" She looked off into the distance in contemplation. "Oh. right. She has a leash!" She picked up a pink harness from the end table, revealing two holes that she then put her arms through, and a leather leash extending from where they linked up at her back. "She likes her leash, too! It gives her freedom of movement but in the area her owner wants her to be which is, you know, it's a good compromise. Best of both worlds thing."

I arched an eyebrow. I wasn't exactly the pet-play expert, but I was pretty sure that's not where that went.

She giggled, only slightly nervous. "Well, come on, you can't put a leash on a bunny's neck. It's too small for that, you have to get a little harness to take a bunny for a walk." She shook her head to clear her thoughts. "Anyway! She doesn't have to be hypnotized or be some kind of blood-drinking Bunnicula, she just-has-to-be-yours-oh-kay!" That last bit came out rhythmic, like a mantra, or something said by clapping girls sitting in a ring. She held her hand to her brow, ready to swipe down. "Are we ready?"

I was. But she wasn't. I beckoned her over with one finger, and held up the remote control vibrator with the other. She stood at attention, arms folded behind her back, as I placed it inactive on her clit, folded the flap in her outfit up to line it up, and then taped it into place before snapping her closed. Hand swiped down over my face. Leash in my hand, remote in the other. In character.

She gave a bow that was more like a plie as she swiped her own face. "Good evening, Mistress," she chirped with a blush. "Please, make yourself comfortable. May I fix you a drink?"

When she asked that, I flicked the vibrator from 0 to 1, just for a moment, and I could trace the path of the shiver that went out through her body. She wants to feel good serving me. I want to help her feel that. I gestured a 'go ahead' to the table as I took my seat on the recliner. She nodded, then another plie.

She swung the leash up and around, to avoid dragging it across the table and knocking anything over. "I have just the thing for you," she said, fanning out her hands like a stage magician offering to let you inspect her cards. "A kamikaze, a light, playful aperitif inspired by Japan but made for America." One third vodka, one third triple-sec, one third lime juice. Her eyes were closed as she poured each of the ingredients into her mixer, and I could tell she was feeling out the amount of time she had each pouring out. So as not to disturb her, I only flicked her vibrator on when her hands were empty, so she wouldn't shake and spill anything or mess up the ratio of drinks.

Who else but Misa would have decided 'I am going to roleplay as a pet bunny on a leash, so I had better learn to mix cocktails!'? It was the exemplary kind of silly yet perfectly sensical idea her mind came up with. A Playboy Bunny is fundamentally a servant. There to make the customer have a good time, in a very high-class and fancy way. So of course a pet bunny should also be mixing drinks, because a pet serves her owner, and a bunny is a pet, and a waitress is a servant, QED. The only kind of pet who can wear a little bow tie and make her owner feel rich. What would a dog girl do to take things to the next level, track mud inside and bury a dildo in the yard? 

I resolved never to look that up, so I could maintain that mental image.

Stirred up in the mixing container with a long straw, with a practiced grace. Literally, this must have been what she was practicing when I was in the shower. Such dedication to such a little detail. Why? Because it would help her make me happy. She poured into two cocktail glasses, and placed a liiitle spiral slice of lime on the edge of mine, placing just enough into the drink to make it rise over the crest of the glass, held together by surface tension. This was precise. She didn't just practice this, she made some serious measurements. Instrumentation was involved.

"Aaaand here you go!" she said as she handed me the glass, both servile and friendly. A friend who loves to serve. But, of course, she wasn't done yet. It was kind of a complicated maneuver, holding a glass by the stem in the same hand I held the leash, remote in the other, but I held out my free index finger and sort of jabbed it against my pinky. She looked at it, confused, until I repeated the motion. "Oh! Silly me. I forgot to finish the recipe!"

She set her own drink aside, pulled a lancet from my bag, held her breath, and jabbed her fingertip. She hissed and bit her lip at the sudden surge of pain, and started chewing that lip when I set her vibrator to 1 and kept it there. Her breath became a bit more ragged and she took a moment to steady it. Did I crave the taste of blood in my drink? Not particularly. Was I craving my girlfriend's living essence, given as a show of submission? Yes. Yes I was.

My mental image of the perfect, calm dominant was somewhat marred when I guided her blood-beaded fingertip to my glass... and forgot that it was only held together by surface tension, and the moment I pushed her finger into it the drink spilled over into my lap. 

"Ah, crap," she said, but quickly caught herself. "I'm such a klutz, whoopsie! Let me clean that up for you."

I extended my arm out so her leash would have enough slack to go grab a paper towel.

This was not necessary.

She crouched down onto her haunches, squirming only a little bit as the change of posture rubbed the buzzing vibrator into her sex. Without hesitation or self-awareness, she slurped the liquid from the little depression where my skirt dipped along my thigh. And then she started licking and slurping.

Was it actually sexy? She was trying to slurp up spilled alcohol through clothing, which is usually sad, and not sexually stimulating for either of us. So objectively, it wasn't sexy at all. But she did it instantly, fully committed to it, because she thought there was even a chance I would think it was hot. She fell to her knees the moment I might possibly need her to. So that made it sexy as hell. It deserved at least a couple seconds of setting 2, and I deserved to hear her whimper into my cocktail-soaked thigh.

I'd tell her to just use a paper towel next time, though.

It didn't take long before I wasn't sure how much of the dark spots on my skirt were spilled drink and how much were Misa’s spit. I was so caught up in the fantasy for a moment that I stroked the inside of her ear to get her attention, but then I realized I had to tug on it so she could feel the rabbit ear headband move. She popped up, chipper as ever. "Gotcha! All cleaned up." I lifted my glass, she got hers, and we hooked our wrists together before taking a sip.

"Mmm." This was good. Slight tinge of metallic saltiness from her blood, of course, but very sweet and fruity. If she kept these coming I could get completely shitfaced before I even noticed. Good thing she wouldn't. I was a very in control, very composed classy pet owner and patron. I could tell she enjoyed hers, but not as much as she enjoyed seeing me drink mine, her eyes locked on my mouth.

"I knew you'd like it!" she chirped. "Perfect for your palate. The orange taste you love, but exploring out into new frontiers." I... yeah, I drank a lot of orange stuff, didn't I? Orange juice in the morning because I didn't drink coffee, and then later I had orange flavored tea, and the screwdriver was my cocktail of choice. I mean, orange is a good flavor, I guess I didn't put together how much I had of it. Misa noticed that even though I didn't. That warranted a playful rub to the inside of her ear, and some time with setting 2, because Bunny Misa loved having her ears rubbed.

"Hffff..." she gasped, chin quivering as I rubbed her bunny ear and the side of her face. "I... I... I'm glad you like it. I wanted to make sure... I knew what you liked." Her foot quivered, making a nice little bunnylike thump-thump-thump as she batted it against the side of the chair. With my wrist hooking hers, I could keep her from spilling her drink.

She sighed in both relief and longing when I took her back to setting 1. I had to do it with my pinky in the hand I was holding my drink with. Complicated maneuvers, here.

"Ah... ah..." She re-composed herself. "I like it... when you stroke my ear." She sat herself on the armrest, and as she sipped, she leaned back more, uncurling her body in my lap. 

I traced one finger down her stomach, hitching at the little points where the fabric bunched up. She looked at it, enraptured, and then traced her own path up the scar on my arm. I shivered. I don't think the tissue was actually sensitive, it was still a scar... but Misa's worship made it seem that way anyway. She wasn’t the only one unlocking the power of her subconscious.

"You're so pretty," she cooed, not looking up from the scar. My finger found its way to her belly button and traced a little circle around it.

I finished my drink, and let her finish hers. We sat in silence, simply touching each other's bodies. Her in my lap. A bunny who could think of nothing she wanted more than to be here. To be here for me, and for what I wanted. And I knew what I wanted. 

Reaching up, over her head, she set our glasses off to the side. And I tapped on her, getting her attention. I didn't say anything, I didn't need to, I didn't need to stammer and feel like an idiot and cry in frustration. I cupped my hand and motioned for her to get up. Then I pointed back down, to between my legs.

Whole damn reason I was wearing a skirt instead of jeans today.

She rolled herself to a standing position. I scooched forward in my seat. Then with a little hint of awe, she crouched on her haunches once more, head between my spread out knees.

One finger to the back of her head. And gently, ever so gently, but irresistibly, I pushed her forward into my snatch. 

Misa had enthusiasm but little skill for cunnilingus. So I took the task of training her. And of course the best way to train someone is with positive reinforcement. She started by licking at my sensitive inner thighs. This was good. Good girl. But then, she kept licking, further and further out on the thigh. This wasn't stimulating, so I set her vibe back down to 0. Not to punish her, to guide her.

She got the message quickly. Back inwards, back to setting 1. Lapping at my sex now, just jostling the lips, sending slow warmth radiating through my lower body. She kissed my lower lips more firmly, passionately, teasing the button of my clit back and forth with her nose. "Nnnggghhhh..." I moaned, each little pat like pressing the Pleasure Button. So I pressed her pleasure button -- up to setting 2.

She moaned back in response, shoving her face into my snatch, so desperate to cum, so desperate for ME to cum. Her tongue darting now inside of me, flattened out to scrape both sides of my entrance, sending shivers up my spine. I was so close, groaning in time with her frantic licks. She tilted back just a bit, started scraping against the top of my pussy, looking for the G-spot just like I showed her. Brought her hand up to my clit, now rubbing it between her fingertips, pleasuring it from the top with her hand and the bottom with her tongue. My whole body was melting away. I couldn't hold back, and didn't care to. I came.

Like when you close your eyes and pressed on them to see sparks and dots and lights, except they are real, and you feel them in your body, and everything pops and everything is amazing.

I writhed in my chair as the orgasm swept through my body, but I still had presence of mind enough to reward Misa. Flicked the remote all the way up to 8, as high as it would go.

In some combination, the vibrator, the pussy juice slicked all over her face, and the bliss of knowing she did a good job bringing me to orgasm -- we neither knew or cared what the ratio was -- Misa came, and came hard. Wound up for two days waiting for this climax, she emitted a piercing "EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" as her body was wracked with pleasure. She went limp, unable to move for a while, and fell against my calf, shuddering and rubbing her face into me.

Nuzzled up against my leg. What a good pet she was. We'd definitely have to do this again.

### 
    
    
    * * *

"Naomi, I am your slave and your pet and all that. You are my world," Misa recites. "And in that capacity, I am ORDERING you to get up."

"Gnaaargh."

"You made me promise!" says Misa. "This is the only time we can talk to the church in Hawaii, you have to be there if I'm going to interpreter you, you HAVE to get up!"

"Graaaaargh!" Naomi flails at Misa like a particularly uncoordinated zombie. Short by a full meter, Naomi then rolls back over, wrapping the covers over herself. In her more lucid moments, she has thought that everyone should be more sympathetic to impulsive junkie-types, because there is a point at which every human is desperately hooked on sleep and would throw away anything for another hit. In her defense, though, it's four in the fucking morning. Who says they are only available from 9 to 10 AM local time?

"Get UP!" Misa pouts, yanking the free corner of the blanket to unroll the sleep-burrito her lover has made. "I swore a blood oath to get you up!" 

"Nrarrrgh!"

"Do not make me get you out with tools," Misa says. "I will get the Jaws of Life in here. No, I will go to the kitchen, I will get a spatula, I will flip you like an okonomiyaki."

And even in her impaired state, Naomi knows never to doubt an Osaka girl's okonomiyaki-flipping skills.

### 
    
    
    * * *

It's no wonder L only ever took cases that "interested him" and kept his reputation as an unimpeachable master detective who never emerged from the shadows. The two were related. However it was done in the 1970s, now law enforcers petitioning L for help sent their requests to an untraceable E-mail account. And most of their cases are unsolvable, not because of their actual difficulty, but because the police hadn't done their due diligence and given L enough information to work with. So L didn't find those cases "interesting" and maintained his spotless record.

Naomi looks over the inbox. She is under no obligation to do anything with them, she is still not yet L, they are merely there for her to observe and she only need take a crack at one if she feels like it. She briefly considers replying to every one by telling them the basic police work they neglected to do, but decides against it. L needs to maintain his image.

Once Misa knows English, she will be able to compose those messages in a way that holds up to L's reputation of intelligence.

### 
    
    
    * * *

"I'm not gonna count all the stick figures," says Misa as she emerges from the bathroom in a robe and towel, "but I'm gonna guess 'The Forty-Seven Ronin'."

Naomi points back at her. She got it.

"Now if you will excuse me, I have some business to take care of," Misa says, as she spirits herself back to the living room. Naomi arches an eyebrow. There's only one thing Misa could be doing. After a few moments and with a sigh, she rolls out of the blankets and comes out as well.

"What?" Misa protests upon seeing Naomi. "I'm doing it over a trash can, see?" Indeed she is, sanding her heel with an emory board over the mini trash can. "I can't help it, you know! Just this one heel makes dead skin like crazy. Nobody knows why. It's a mystery of our age." 

Naomi considers this for a moment then leaves, apparently satisfied. Until she returns. Holding the roughly trapezoidal, brushed metal implement common to every kitchen.

"A cheese grater?" Misa says in disbelief. "Come on, there's no way. You know what I need is, I need one of those power sanders. BRRRRRVVVVVVTTTTTTTTT! Be done in ten seconds. I might lose my heel, it may still be worth it."

Naomi tut-tuts her. 

"Oh, right, my apologies. It's not my heel, it's yours. Unfortunately, it's still gross. BRRRRRRVVVVVVVVTTTTTTTT!"

### 
    
    
    * * *

"So, the ceremony is at 2 PM on April 19th, at the Saint James Kisai Church in Hilo. The address is in the invitation, but Naomi and I wanted to double-check everything. Will you be coming, miss Misora?"

Naomi and Misa can hear the mental wheedling going through Maiko's head over the speakerphone. "Oh, we would love to..." she says. "It's just so difficult, you know... Kenji and I had hoped so much for a grandchild, so it may be hard to get away..."

Naomi begins to write a response. As the awkward silence hangs, Misa's face becomes a mask of pure, righteous anger, but she says nothing. No reaction from Naomi? Misa's face becomes seething, sneering contempt. No reaction. Misa cringes, apologetic. Nothing. Holds her chin up and adopts a posture of firm and slightly smug superiority. Naomi points to her, that's the tone she is going for. Slides the note across the table.

"//WE ALL HOPE FOR A LOT OF THINGS. YOU ALSO HOPED FOR YOUR DAUGHTER TO LIVE AND BE HAPPY. YOU CAN MAKE THE TIME FOR THAT.//" Misa reads.

Like, come on. They killed Kira. They ain't going to dedicate time or anguish to Mom's foot-dragging homophobia.

### 
    
    
    * M I S A *

It had been at least like a week since we decided everything was set up and ready. I wasn't writing any new hypno command cue cards, or making any new voice tapes, and hadn't put myself under. We'd had sex, like, the normal way, and that was very good! And Bunny Misa came out to play but didn't actually have sex. I wasn't all edged up in case that would like interfere. And, like, I knew that part of the fun was anticipation and not knowing when she was going to do something to me, right, but I was starting to worry. This was something I really wanted to do for her, I didn't want her to get cold feet! Or, maybe it was a communication thing? The bracelet I wore was -- as ANY good interpreter would be able to tell you -- my own little "Alternative, Augmentative Communication" device, like hers. The topaz and emerald meant the same as hers, but since if I am upset it’s my responsibility to communicate that clearly, I did swap out the ruby of anger for a pink rose quartz that meant "go ahead and do sexy stuff to me, you don't have to ask beforehand." Not that I would pretend to dislike it, it wasn't that kind of thing, it was a communication device to skip a difficult kind of communication!

I thought she came up with a great way to enhance our communication, and thought I was adding to it by replacing the gem. But maybe I misunderstood. Maybe her reading my "take me now" bracelet was like having to say words to herself to determine if they rhymed, and it just didn't work. And a good interpreter -- which I was! -- would make sure she understood. She had her emerald on, so, if that much worked she should be open to stuff. So, time to broach the subject. Tastefully.

"Hey, Naomi? I was just thinking..." She turned around and she smiled, and then she grabbed me by the chin and made me look into her eyes. And then she also grabbed my left earlobe. Which was weird. But I could see her text with my special eyes, //NAOMI MISORA -19657F// hovering above her face, and that was good, because I feel like that is an important thing to check every once in a while, and yup there it goes it just ticked over to //-196580// so it's really her and not a picture or anything. And her eyes are really, really beautiful, you know? That deep, soulful grey, like even though she can't talk she can just express everything through those eyes and you could stare into those eyes forever and always be seeing something and just get lost in those eyes staring back into you

Anyway somebody’s voice was saying "I am getting sleepy, I am getting very sleepy. There is nothing I can see but your eyes. They make me feel very, very relaxed." which must have been the TV or something because Naomi can't talk and I have to do that for her because I'm a good interpreter but good for whoever was saying that being relaxed is nice even though I couldn't really see the TV or much of anything else and "I feel very comfortable and very relaxed. Very comfortable and very relaxed. I am now slipping into a deep, deep trance. It's okay to be entranced by you because I am with someone who will keep me safe." and good for you sister that's how I feel about Naomi too but I want to get her to hypnotize me because she wants to like explore that sexuality and it seems like it could be really cool too like I did it to myself with the tapes but that's not the same thing it's a super controlled environment and I want to see her happy and explore stuff that she wants to explore which is why I need to tell her she has the okay to go do that but like she might be watching the TV so I should wait until this bit is over before I say anything "I feel very relaxed and very safe as I am slipping further and further away. I am very sleepy. I am very sleepy, but it feels very good to fall asleep for you. Now I am asleep. I am completely entranced." and hey that sounds like it's hypnosis which is what she wanted to do so maybe she's paying attention to that show so I better not interrupt I'm pretty comfortable right here anyway

so she was blushing and smiling and that made me blush too even though I wasn't sure why so she looked that way like when you're happy about something that's silly or embarrassing but that's okay because life is silly sometimes and it's a journey we're on together and all that stuff so i giggled too and then she kind of reached up to my blouse and waved her fingers like a little "bat them apart" type gesture and you know it would be a pretty good idea to open up my blouse like I didn't really have to but it would be a lot easier if I did and the buttons came undone really easy and I still needed to tell her that the rose quartz meant she could do sexy stuff to me but this was okay too so I guess that could wait until later and she walked over to the couch and she tapped me on the shoulder like to push me along which was good because I was actually pretty tired but I really didn't wanna get up well okay I was already standing up but you know what I mean but once she tapped me over it was more like I was rolling downhill right so I sat down right next to her and that was comfy and warm and now I reeeeeeeeally didn't wanna get up and she was blushing even harder and she pointed at me and she said "Uh. Uhhh. Hm. Ahhhh..." and she was having trouble saying something but that was cool I had plenty of time and what she says is important enough to wait for so "Er. Um. Touch. Touch?"

so then what I do is I have to feel out what she is trying to say so I was like "Touch. Touch you. Touch me." okay touch me something touches me so I held out a finger and I poked myself right between my tits on my exposed chest and then she giggled and I giggled too so that wasn't what she wanted but it wasn't a big deal "Touch myself higher. Touch myself lower." okay touch myself lower ha that could mean touch my pussy and that's funny so I was gonna playfully tease her so I slid my hand into the waistband of my skirt and she blushed even harder but she wasn't indicating I should stop so hee hee I'm getting away with something naughty and she didn't say anything else so she didn't need anything so it was cool to just touch myself and that felt like a pretty good idea and it was pretty relaxing too so I was just gonna do that for a while and chill and she was blushing even harder as she watched me but I didn't care everything was cool but then she kind of gritted her teeth and recoiled and started stammering 

and man I was super comfy right here but if she was having trouble that was more important than chilling out and masturbating on the couch so I said "What, what? What's wrong? Did I do something wrong? I mean, I was waiting for, I was going to tell you that..." And then I blinked and shook the cobwebs out of my head. "Oh wow, I was just hypnotized there, wasn't I?"

She nodded slow, but she looked really uncomfortable. Wasn't making eye contact. She was freaked out! Like we were worried I would be too scared and I got myself all psyched up, and then she did it, and she got too scared she might be hurting me. And I said "It's okay, it's okay... I liked it! It was really fun, actually! It was like when you're falling asleep on the couch and the remote is juuust out of reach but you are just sooo comfy right there that it doesn't matter if you can't mute the TV. But instead of laying down, the comfy couch was whatever you wanted me to do."

She looked like maybe she was on the edge of crying, but not getting closer. Trying not to laugh at the analogy. "But as soon as you looked like you were in trouble, I snapped right out of it, right? You didn't hurt me at all, and you couldn't make me do anything bad. And I learned something! I didn't know I was saying my whole 'I am very sleepy' thing, but I thought it was the TV. If I made myself pretend I couldn't hear it at all, then it would be even more, like, surprising and fun!" And then I blushed. "But, uh. It was fun but it wasn't worth making you feel sad or upset. If you wanna try it again I'd be happy to do that, but if it's too scary, then we never have to do it again. And now nobody can hypnotize me to give up super Death Note secrets unless you're there too and you can just kick them in the head for trying. And, like, I couldn't make myself not see people's names, but it's easier to not notice their times, at least. So we still got something out of it." I slid up into her lap and wrapped my arm around her. "We can do what you wanna do, and we don't have to do what you don't wanna do. Okay?"

And she nodded slow again. And she smiled. And she took up my other arm, and she held me, and she kissed me. I laid my head on her shoulder. I don't know or care if I was hypnotized or not, because this was the most comfortable place in the world.

### 
    
    
    * * *

This call is going to be a lot more difficult. At least it's made at 10 AM, not four in the fucking morning.

The phone rings an uncomfortable number of times, and Misa and Naomi stare at each other nervously as they wait for the line to pick up. But at last it does, with a male voice greeting them with "「Y’ello?」"

"Hello!" Misa says. "May I please speak to Livia Cook?" Dead silence. Her husband must not speak any Japanese. Misa repeats herself, drawn out, enunciating each syllable so the man on the other end can try to recognize what the name used to be before it got folded and spindled into Japanese phonemes. "「Rii-bi-aa Kuu-ku」."

"Honey, as soon as he heard you speaking Japanese he came to give me the phone," comes the voice of Raye's sister. Her tone and demeanor are warm and easy, comfortable enough with the language to use it closer to the American idiom. "This is Livia Cook, what can I do you for?"

"Hello!" Misa says, folding her hands like Livia can see them. "My name is Misa Amane. I am participating in this conversation and also serving as interpreter for Naomi Misora, imitating her voice." You had to make that clear at the start, otherwise it can get confusing. Good interpreter practice.

"Right, I remember you. You told me Naomi was still alive. How is she -- er, how are you, Naomi? I tried to call to check in on you but I didn't have a phone number I could use."

"Naomi says:" and Misa adopts her Naomi voice, more considered and precise, "//I'M SORRY WE COULD NOT GIVE A PHONE NUMBER BEFORE, BUT IF YOU WANT TO GET IN TOUCH THE NUMBER WE ARE USING NOW WILL BE FINE. AND I'M DOING VERY WELL, THANK YOU. THAT IS ACTUALLY WHY I AM CALLING YOU.//"

"Callin' me to say you're doin' great?" Livia responds. "Well, that's good to know. I was worried about ya."

Misa gets the next note and pauses. This is difficult to say for her, and for Naomi, so Naomi would also pause. "//LIVIA, I AM GETTING MARRIED IN APRIL, TO MISA.//"

"Misa, like you mean the girl? The girl talking now?"

"Yes, I'm Misa," she responds, quickly switching to her own voice and back. She's getting good at that. 

"//I KNOW THAT IT IS UNUSUAL AND IT COULD BE RUDE. BUT I WOULD LIKE TO THINK WE WERE FRIENDS AND IF YOU WANT TO COME, YOU ARE WELCOME. IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO COME I COMPLETELY UNDERSTAND.//"

"April? You and Raye... you were going to tie the knot in June, weren't you?"

"Yes." They were. Less than a year. But a lot can happen in a year. A lot of time can get crammed into one year. 

Silence. Livia is thinking.

Misa uses her own voice again. "Miss Cook. I just wanted to say... I never met Raye. But I learned as much as I could about him, from Naomi, and from everything else. Your brother was a really good person, and I'm really sad he died. And I just... I wanted to tell you. That I'm not replacing him. I can't do that."

"Nobody could," says Livia, faraway.

"No, they couldn't," Misa continues. "I know his death still hurts. I know it hurts Naomi, too. And I don't... I just... I wanted you to know that this wasn't out of, like, disrespect. A LOT happened to us, you can get a whole lot of living together in a year when you spend some of it hunting and being hunted by Kira. It's not like she forgot him and threw him away.”

Naomi wants to say:" back to Naomi Voice, "//I WILL ALWAYS LOVE HIM AND ALWAYS REMEMBER HIM. AND IF YOU WANT TO STAY MY FRIEND, I WILL HAPPILY BE THAT TOO.// She does, I have seen it."

"I..." Livia trails off. "I just..." Deep sigh. "No. I can't. I wish you all the best and all, but... No. Not for me. I don't wanna see it. It's just, it's too much, too soon. Maybe what you're doing ain't right, maybe it's my problem. But I can't. I'll send y'all a gift if you're registered."

"//YOU DON'T HAVE TO SEND A GIFT. IF YOU WISH US HAPPINESS, THAT'S ENOUGH.//

### 
    
    
    * * *

One of Naomi's coworkers, Michael, had an idiot cousin.

"Okay. This story happened to you in America."

He picked up bits and pieces of Bureau lingo and tried to use it to pick up chicks.

"The nature of the story is humorous."

He had a badge that said //FEMALE BODY INSPECTOR// and instead of treating it as a gag, he went out to the nightclub and tried to convince some girls it was a real thing.

"It involves both your personal life, AND your workplace. Got it. Ready!"

Naomi had to rescue his ass, and save him from the beatdown of a lifetime by convincing the unruly locals that he was actually a real agent working with the FBI and Department of Health.

She gets as far as //COUSIN BADGE NOT// before flicking her pencil away in frustration.

"Too much for now?" Misa asks. "Okay, over to me then." She stops in consideration. She has already told the story of how KFC ninjas wage a shadow war against the Hanshin Tigers to keep them from winning the Japan Series, after the Tigers conquered a KFC restaurant and made the Colonel statue walk the plank into the canal. Ooh!

"Okay, I know! You know that place I've been saying we should go, Douton Kobe, by the canal? Well, the first time we went, it was me and Mom and Dad, and for their anniversary, it was like, hey, let's go to a fancy steakhouse! I wanted to be cool and cosmopolitan, so I came along and said I would be very mature instead of needing a babysitter. And what kind of steak do cool people get? I don't know, actually, but when I was 11 I had just heard of a Pennsylvania cheese steak and figured that had to be the way to go. So we go around, take our orders, Mom is about to get me one of the dinky little kid items for picky eaters, and I just say 'I'll have the Pennsylvania cheese steak and a lemonade, please.' Like I was so practiced and cool and knew exactly what I wanted."

Misa's getting into it now. So is Naomi. "So the waiter, he just nods like he knows exactly what I want, right? Even though it turns out, Pennsylvania cheese steak is not what they serve at a steak house. So they bring me out this GIANT steak, like it’s six ounces so it’s not real Kobe but who cares, and the outside is just like incinerated, right? Hard and blackened and crispy and covered in a layer of bleu cheese. And I'm like 'what, did I order something wrong', but I didn't want to admit I screwed up, right? So I get my knife, and I get to sawing it open, and then I find out the inside is just completely RAW. Like purple with blood oozing out of it. And oh my God I did not know you were allowed to even DO that. Oh. Ohhhh! It was so tender and JUICY, I didn't want to take the time to saw through the outside with the dinky knife they gave me, right? So I tore into it with my bare hands, ripped it open and just, just, mmmmph. MMMPH! Mom ordered something that she had to spend a lot of time concentrating on taking apart, so when she finally looked up at me she screamed, because I looked like a ravenous zombie who’d just chewed through a dude’s heart except also his ribs were made of bleu cheese. Nearly gave her a heart attack. I've only had it a couple times since, but whatever they give you instead of a Pennsylvania cheese steak, it's the fuckin' best."

Misa was thinking of a Philadelphia cheesesteak, and was served a steak Pittsburgh rare, which is another city in Pennsylvania. Pittsburgh rare is, apocryphally, when the steel workers would cook meat by slapping it against glowing hot freshly-forged girders, flash-cooking the outside and keeping the inside uncooked. 

Naomi grabs her pencil so she can write down //PITTSBURGH = STEAK//. An addendum. //COOK//.

Then she continues her own writing. //COUSIN --> AGENT. GIRL GET.//

### 
    
    
    * * *

"Okay, this seems a lot better than chess. So here are the rules, for you, I can't read them anyway. I'll separate out all the little wooden starfish men... I think I wanna be red. Okay, and there's a bunch of tiles and stuff, if the rules say how to set those up then here they are. Hm, maybe they actually aren’t so much starfish, as like they’re kids in really puffy coats. I guess while you read, I'll put together this little catapult thing... Ah, we launch the puffy kids into the city, I think! I bet it's gonna be fun!"

### 
    
    
    * * *

In Japan, voice acting for video games is no less respectable than any other voice over work, or any form of acting. But Misa needs to stand out, to elevate herself, now that the game is far enough along to actually take audition tapes.

She need not do this by immersing herself in the mindset of a 18th-century French peasant girl who summons dragons, the game developers don't know what that would be like or want it anyway. No, she has noticed a problem with the performance of every video game seiyuu she intends to solve. Namely, that video game characters get hit and hit each other a lot, and they need to grunt and bark and yelp and kiai, and all of these combat noises are CLEARLY being delivered by people who are sitting down in front of a microphone. That's not how it works! When you bend your body as you're fighting, it puts different pressure on your lungs and diaphragm, and you sound different!

"Hah! Kyaah!" Misa barks, chucking a tennis ball over to Naomi. The tennis ball is a magical familiar. "No, no, not feeling that. That's throwing a ball. Gimme a second." She picks the ball up, recomposes, then twists her body to the side, extending one arm out fully and holding the other upward like a ballet dancer. "Kyaah!" she bellows as she flicks her wrist and sends the tennis ball out. "Ooh, yeah, that's good, that's an invocation. Let's do that one." Misa remains perfectly still while Naomi angles the microphone right next to her mouth and replaces the tennis ball. Signals for the tech to hit record. "Kyaah! Hut! Onward! Go! Suzaku, I choose you!"

Naomi swings a broomstick at her, slowly, giving her ample time to dodge out of the way. "Hup! Whoop! Too slow!" Misa's on her toes and fingertips, sliding to the side when she gets it. "Yeah, yeah, that one, pull the mike in. Ready? Hup! Whoa! Missed me! Too slow!"

She gets on the stool so Naomi can knee her in the chest in slow motion, she can curl around the impact, and pause it when she feels the pressure on her abdomen. "Oof! Augh! Ack!"

They are almost done. Misa pauses in consideration. "Hmmm... She still is going to get, like, kicked so hard she's flying backwards, right? We need a rig to hold me upside down in the air... Or maybe you can, you can chuck me across the room, and I shout into the microphone as I pass it..."

### 
    
    
    * * *

The wedding approaches, in fits and starts. It is perpetually never going to happen and right around the corner. The stress is not as much as they feared, perhaps because the fact they accepted their budget means there are a lot less decisions to make. 

They are fitted for their beautiful, immaculate dresses, outside of each other's sight. Can't see each other until the wedding day! Naomi also has her jacket, a couple of shirts, a lightly formal dress, and a great number of pairs of blue jeans altered to her exact measurements. Even after Misa told her, she's still surprised by how flattering it is to have her clothing custom fitted. Misa greatly appreciates the look as well. They get one more very special item of apparel.

RSVPs come in. Coworkers, mostly. Or friends met at work. Naomi's parents are coming. Ryuzaki is not, and doesn't care that he was un-invited. Presumably, Graves was also unconcerned. No agonizing over the meal: it's a buffet, everyone get what you like! Forget fretting over who to sit next to who, just seat yourselves, it's picnic tables! Flowers? Nobody actually knows the language of flowers around here, so get a cheap variety wreath to put near the front! Venue? Well, bilingual Catholic-style churches in Hawaii that will perform symbolic gay weddings is a narrow enough category that it wasn't a choice either! Theme? The theme is look at our amazing white wedding gowns! 

Still, important things to do. Need to come up with a variant of the vows and ceremony that Naomi can comfortably communicate in, but doesn't stray too far. Find some elegant style of poncho to cover up both brides before the ceremony, so they don't see each other in their dresses but Misa can still act as interpreter. 

Most important of all, time must be set aside in between waking up at 7 and getting up at 10, to lay in bed, arms around each other, in that natural hypnotic state that comes from drifting freely between sleep and wakefulness, not speaking, simply reading the stories written on your lover's skin, etched in scars or graceful calligraphy of the lips.

Kissing girls is different from kissing boys. When you kiss a boy, you're going somewhere with it. When you kiss a girl, you're wandering, exploring, seeing where things take you. There's still so much to explore.

### 
    
    
    * A M A S O R A *

It was finally here. The big day. Our wedding. We got here early, there was a lot to do to prepare. Not a bachelorette party, though. Why would you ever have one of those? Aren't you getting married because you want to be, why celebrate not being married? Instead of having a cheat-on-your-wife-but-technically-it-doesn't-count party. Naomi needed to scout the place, for one. We had Ryuzaki's alarm thing, and we tested it from time to time, but it's better to be safe than sorry. Nobody had just started working at the venue or the caterer, everyone was who they were supposed to be, the church was well ventilated, we could test the buffet for poison once it was out, and a simple and cheap motion alarm thingy could tell us if people were coming in who shouldn't be. Can't have our special day without feeling safe!

We stayed at a Motel 6, not even the Holiday Inn. Airfare was outrageous! Even upping the budget to ¥850,000 we had to cut even more corners than we expected. But in a sense, it was fun. It made it more memorable. Every cheapo thing we used, we could look at and say 'this is a sacrifice we made for our beautiful dresses'. Made them even more special.

Misa also helped defray our costs by offering her own services, another reason we had to come early. She would be too radioactive to work in Japan, because Japan was very pro-Kira as a whole. And a high profile public life in America would be risky even if America's opinion on Kira wasn't nearly so cut and dried. But here in a part of America where there are a lot of Japanese-Americans, there are at least a few local places who wanted to bank on getting a controversial celebrity to advertise for them if she was really, really cheap, as in paid in wedding services. Well, we thought it was a matter of getting a celebrity, anyway. Once we saw the ads for Hawaii Adventuresome Catering, it seemed like they weren’t looking for a celebrity so much as anyone who actually knew what they were doing. We helped light and set up the photo shoot, picked the angles of the shots, did lots of their work for them. It was hard not to produce something better than what they had, but Misa still tried her hardest, she wanted work to be proud of. Misa was a cute, spunky chef gal bringing chicken strips to the families and corporate events of Hawaii, but really, she was bringing them together as people. You can put up with a lot of schmaltz on this kind of budget.

The church was nice. VERY nice, if you looked at it from exactly the right angle that made it appear to be secreted away in a copse of trees, and not at the angles where you could see the auto parts store or the Muay Thai gym on either side. Despite the name invoking one of the Martyrs of Nagasaki, it was actually a Unitarian-Universalist church, catering to Japanese Christians drifting away from Catholicism. At least it wasn't in a strip mall, and had pretty Gothic-ey architecture. When you have empirical evidence that MIGHT indicate God isn't real and there is no such thing as Heaven or Hell, that seems pretty appropriate in the 'grappling with your faith' way. We still felt like we belonged here. Also, we went next door and got a couple of commemorative hubcaps at Misa's suggestion. There'd be no way we'd forget what these meant!

We had 43 guests coming, which was a modest but respectable turnout. Some people couldn't afford to come but sent their best wishes, some people objected to a lesbian wedding so who cares what they thought, and without large extended families for each of us there wasn't a huge well to draw from. Maiko and Kenji Misora came, as did Naomi's much older sister and brother-in-law Ayumi and Gunther, and their kid Greta. Many of Naomi's coworkers, all glad to know she was alive, and here to finally see it for themselves. Matsuda was the best man, the only other investigator present. Nori was maid of honor. A surprising number of Misa's performing friends and acquaintances, actresses, models, directors, a couple of key grips. People who considered themselves her friends she met at work, but she didn't realize they thought of her as anything but a coworker... and a couple of people who really were just coworkers but perhaps wanted some free time with photographer Satoshi. And her regular friends Ami and Toru, of course. Misa's distant uncle and aunt, who she agonized over inviting given that the only time they ever contacted her was to mooch her for money, but hey why not. The digs won't give them the idea there's a lot of money to mooch. Spouses, SOs, and plus ones for many of the above.

So, big day came. The photographer showed up early so he can set up lighting and take pics of the rings and stuff, and we had a sign-up sheet for who wanted pics with who later. Naomi's FBI friends all wanted pics with each other, mostly, but then all the actresses and models tried to take pics with everyone because why not? Anyway this was when people started showing up and most important to talk to was our best man. 

"Good to see you two," Matsuda said. He had a very nice tuxedo on, with a rose in his lapel, and we know it's a real thing but honestly both of us couldn't stop thinking of Tuxedo Mask from Sailor Moon. "And good that you're doing so well. It's weird, I didn't really know you that long, but... I'm really happy for you."

"It's good to see you too," we said. "How have you been? Been in contact with any of the other investigators?"

"Oh, I've been keeping on. Not too busy," he said. "Ryuzaki is probably going to set me up to be a consulting detective, but I'm not sure what he could need me for. I'm not on you guys's level. Aizawa is becoming a private investigator, Soichiro is... well, nobody has seen him, and that's what he wanted. Mogi just rejoined the force with no problems. Honestly, the most work I've been doing is working on my best man speech. Actually, if you don't mind me asking, the ceremony seems... uh..."

"Cheap?" we finished up for him. "It's fine to say it, it's cheap." Naomi laughed before Misa did because Misa had to finish talking, then we both gestured around to the crepe paper dangling about. "Well, the super unlimited Illuminati money sometimes comes with strings attached, and we didn't want them to have their fingers in our special day. We splurged on the one thing we wanted most, the wedding dresses, and cut everything else to the bone so we could pay with our own money. You should have seen Naomi, she's the Grim Reaper of budgets."

"Oh." Matsuda's face blanched. "Oh. That money, it comes with... Because, uh, you see, I've been tapping into that a little bit for... You know, my girlfriend broke up with me right before the Kira case, and I had no time to date during it, and now I'm not really in a place to, so, I kind of needed..."

Misa held her hand up reassuringly. "It's fine. This is just our little thing to worry about. There's no way they care about love hotels or hookers or whatever you're talking about." Hell, Matsuda could be filling swimming pools with ramen to fight hookers in shark swimsuits and it'd be fine. Whatever he needed to feel happy, give it to him. Guy had been shit on enough already.

"Oh." He caught his breath. "Good. Good. I just, you know, didn't want to make any issues. So. Uh. That's a relief. So, we are just hanging out until the ceremony starts?"

"Yes," we told him, "we don't have like a big bridesmaid party or anything, so there's not much before the ceremony." So he wandered off to mingle, and so did we.

Lots of people to catch up with, say hi to, that kind of thing. A lot of Naomi's friends knew that she was alive but still hadn't seen her in person. Talking to them in English was pretty weird, because Naomi had to go through Misa to interpret her, and then Misa had to go through one of the two translators (not as expensive as you would think when they are college students and you tell them they get to eat free) to get it to English they could understand. But then, when they replied, Naomi could just understand immediately without going through anyone. It was like the words just went in laps around a racetrack and never switched directions to go back. It mostly went the same way each time: Yes, I'm alive! Yes, it's brain damage. No, I can think normally, it's just using language. I had to stay in Japan to help catch Kira, and I was worried about staying secret. Even if it was mostly the same words coming out each time, for each person it was their own unique time to hear it and resolve their emotions about their friend. There were several hugs. Misa recorded the conversations on minicassette so she could later find out what the other half was.

Naomi did have one problem listening to English that she never had in Japanese, and would be pretty impossible to translate. Similar to her Japanese-unique problem that would be nearly impossible to translate into English. In Japanese, you address people with honorifics, it's baked in to your speech. People sometimes translate the most basic honorific as 'Mr.' or 'Mrs.', but that's not accurate, because you use the basic honorific in situations where in English it would be unmarked. Anyway, when Naomi COULD manage to use an honorific -- not often -- it was a complete crapshoot which one came out, much like when she tried to nod or shake her head. So she didn't use them, which would at most translate to English as 'not calling people Mr.', and that sounds normal anyway in English. In Japanese it was incredibly rude, but given she obviously had no choice but to be rude and her card explained her inability to use proper forms of politeness, it usually wasn't a problem. 

But the problem in English that isn't in Japanese is the passive voice. When someone says 'the object was verbed by the subject' instead of 'the subject verbed the object', someone with aphasia doesn't know who did the verb to who and have to guess based on context. Unless they are hearing it in Japanese, where the passive voice is so fundamentally baked in to the grammatical structure that there's no ambiguity. That one was hard for Misa to get, 'Naomi can't understand it when people who aren't speaking Japanese speak it too much like Japanese even though if they were actually speaking Japanese all the way it would be perfectly fine,' but she knew enough to recognize the confusion and identify the problem. As any good interpreter would, she put in the effort to see things the way someone else had to.

Of course, it was okay for us to split up too, once the passive voice thing got mostly sorted out. In the room, at least. Because we make each other strong enough to blah blah blah don't make a big deal about it.

Naomi had written notes to catch people up on her, and invited her guests to just tell her how they were. If talking through 2 stages of interpreter half of the time was weird, then talking directly to someone with obvious brain damage was weirder. It freaked a few people out, but, most of them put in the effort. The reason Robert couldn't make it was his wife had just had twins. Mazel Tov for him! Van Meer, in a perfect example of both his taste and luck, started to date a guy who he felt a strange familiarity with. Two weeks later at a briefing he realized why he felt so familiar: he'd seen the man before! In a briefing! Because the FBI really, really wanted to talk to him about all the crystal meth he was smuggling! Small world, huh? 

Misa went off to catch up with her friends. Nori got a big part! She was going to be a major antagonist-turned-ally in the new Super Sentai, a silver-clad heroine who flies a transforming jet! Great for her, because her physical skills would be a big part of that role. People can tell when the actor in the sentai suit is the same as the actor outside of it, and it makes your performance much better because you maintain the same body language. And Ami's boyfriend pulled Misa aside to ask when it was appropriate to pop the question to your girlfriend at someone else's wedding to not steal too much attention. So Ami had a nice surprise coming about 45 minutes into the reception!

Naomi's parents came, Dad looked more excited than Mom, but both offered us their blessings. Good for them, because this was gonna happen blessing or not.

So then we had to go get into our bridal dresses. We didn't have two separate bridesmaid parties, but Nori and them helped Misa in, and Naomi's parents helped her with hers. Then we chucked on some two-dollar rain ponchos from Wal-Mart (one of them counted as the "new" and one of them counted as the "blue"), so we could interact with each other and interpret/be interpreted, but still not see each other in our dresses. Had to corral everyone inside, get them to their seats, explain the setup. The ceremony would be performed by the minister in Japanese, but there would be a translator right next to him repeating everything in English, so it would take longer as both of them paused. The vows were slightly altered for our unique situation. 

Everyone took their places. Misa came out first, to await Naomi at the altar. Greta came out, the five year old flower girl gathering all sorts of applause and awws as she spread petals on the aisle while dressed in a little Wonder Woman costume. Then, escorted by Kenji, Naomi came out, and for the first time we saw each other in our dresses. The big tickets, the things we'd spent and sacrificed so much of this ceremony to be able to have.

Both of us stopped at once, breath caught in our throats.

It was so, totally worth it.

It was like Naomi was wearing a cloud. Ephemeral, billowing clusters of sheer white fabric didn't so much cling to her body as gracefully adjoin it, her shoulders wrapped in little cumulus drifts, her dress spreading from her waist into great, shimmering folded paths before her. Her pearls were immaculate. Behind her, the dress's train followed her as if it weighed nothing. The gauzy veil hid nothing of her face yet made it so enticing and mysterious anyway. The only part of her from her neck down that wasn't wreathed in shimmering white were her upper arms. Her hands bore bridal gauntlets, wrapped in lace, exposing her fingers, but from her shoulder to her elbow was bare, allowing her scars to be shown to the world. No hiding them. No reason to. Why was there ever a reason to? They were beautiful, just as she was.

Misa, up at front, had been basking in the adulation of the crowd on her own for a bit. Her own veil hung beneath a silver tiara, and upon her neck were two thin strands of pearls, above and below her scar with room to spare. Below that, she lived in lace. Lacy bridal gauntlets all the way up her arms that met at her lace-wrapped chest, the thickened designs of white roses wrapped around her, as if she was dancing in them, spun on top of the semi-sheer white chiffon holding it all together. In the center, above her breast, a silver brooch held together a many-folded ribbon. Flowing down to her legs, her dress did not have as much of a train, but the folds of the translucent material overlapped on each other in new patterns every time she moved, like petals wafting in a breeze.

So worth it.

Naomi basked in the crowd's awe herself, moving down the aisle with confidence until she met Misa at the altar, where we were always meant to be. 

"Dearly beloved," the minister began, lagging every sentence or so for the English to catch up. "We are gathered here today in the presence of our friends and our Lord, to join Naomi and Misa in holy matrimony. As a show of their deep commitment and love, the two have resolved to become bound as one. If any person here has any cause as to why these two shall not be joined in holy matrimony, let them speak now, or forever hold their peace."

That was the only time we tensed up. We'd both decided to leave that part in the ceremony for a more practical reason: there was a chance someone would try something, and if they DID, it would be nearly impossible for anyone to resist doing it right then. Anyone who knows what a wedding is would hear that siren call of drama. So it was good to have a designated moment of 'if someone is going to mess with us, it will almost certainly be now'. 

Nobody did.

We went right back to smiling and blushing underneath our veils, fidgeting, giggly-nervous like children.

The minister nodded and swept his arms out once nobody had tried to ruin anything for a few seconds. "Now, the couple has elected to communicate their vows in their own way. Misa?"

Misa took a deep breath, lowered her head, bowed to one knee. "Naomi Misora, I ask that you take me, Misa Amane, to be your wedded wife, to have and to hold. To catch me when I fall, to weather my infirmities. For richer or for poorer, to love honor and cherish until death do us part." She extended her hand upward, still looking down. "For this I offer that I too will have and hold you, aid you in any way I can, to serve you as loving and faithful wife. To catch you when you fall, to weather your infirmities. For richer or for poorer, I swear I shall honor and cherish you for as long as we both shall live." She left a long, dramatic pause for the translation.

Just as we practiced, the minister turned to Naomi. "Naomi? Shall you?"

Naomi extended her hand and pulled Misa to her feet, pulled her until our eyes locked. No words. No need for translation. No mistaking it. We pulled in together so close our puffy white dresses were trying to spring away from each other. We slipped our silver wedding bands slowly, wordlessly, onto each other's fingers. 

"Then, by the power vested in me by our Lord, I pronounce you wife and wife. You brides may kiss."

And that we did. 

We pulled up the veils meant to keep our faces hidden, and now that we saw each other fully, the world disappeared around us. We were the only two people ever. Naomi grabbed Misa and pulled her in, stronger than any dress puff could push against, and swept her off her feet, and we kissed. Long. Eyes closed. Moaning ever so slightly into each other. Kissing like two people who just became one and needed some kind of physical link between them to get everything between them sorted.

There was scattered applause when we finally broke out of it.

Up next was the reception. The food was buffet style, with the main attraction being chicken-fried-chicken, which we both found out is so named because it is derived from chicken-fried steak, a Southern dish that only approximates how to regularly fry chicken. Big bowls of steaming miso, fillets of salmon stacked on one another. Ooh. Maybe that salmon might not be trustworthy. Probably should leave them be. We did make sure to provide supplies for guests to mix their own cocktails (because having a bartender do it would have doubled the price), and Misa whipped some up for us with aplomb.

We took our seats as guests of honor, and everyone else found their way to a table. No assigned seating, but given the language barrier everyone was sticking to their own groups anyway instead of cross-mingling. Oh well. Matsuda stood, and tapped his spoon on a champagne glass a few times like he'd seen in the movies until he had the room's attention.

"Hi," he said, a bit nervous now that everyone was looking. "I wanted to keep my best man speech short, but there's kind of some stuff I need to catch you all up on. Most of us, we know the bride, or we know the... the other bride. We're two distinct groups, I mean, without much overlap, is what I'm saying. I'm one of the few people who know both of them, and, I don't think I knew them long, but I like to think I knew them deep. Some of you know me as her fake manager, the rest of you... Hi, I'm Matsuda, I am -- was -- a police detective, I worked on the Kira Special Investigative Team with them." He nodded toward us slightly.

"There's a lot about what I saw of them that's classified. Secrets for the fate of the world that I can't reveal. I can say Misa tricked Kira and Naomi neutralized him, and the details... well, to say they've 'been through a lot together' would be the understatement of the millennium, and we just got started with it." Little bit of a laugh. "But it's no secret that both of their lives had tragedy. Neither of them were in a very good place when they met. And they first met as enemies, with Misa a Kira supporter. They despised each other. But I noticed something... even then, I think. Before they loved each other, before they warmed up and got to know one another. They respected each other. They met as enemies, with every reason to completely disregard one another. An idiotic self-brainwashed zealot, versus an agent for the evil L who could barely string two words together. It would have been easy to tune each other out and see each other purely as obstacles or hindrances. But they didn't. Right away, in the worst of conditions, in the worst points of their lives, they saw in each other 'That's a person like me, who is in pain like me, and I respect the person feeling that pain.' It's not exactly love at first sight. They don't write storybooks about that sort of thing. Maybe they should. 

"Misa is proud of how she's changed since meeting and falling in love with Naomi. I think everyone who worked with her is a little proud of her too. Fighting Kira, catching the worst criminal ever, that's hard in a way most of you don't know. But admitting you were wrong and resolving to become a better person, I think we all know how tough that is, and how little we can actually commit to it. And her acting friends, you probably know most of all, she's spitballed like six or seven movie concepts to me personally that are clearly based on her own, her own arc through this." Pause. He turned to Misa. "You do realize that I don't really work in film though, right?" One wave of polite laughter from the Japanese guests, including Misa -- it was some fine light-hearted ribbing. Slight delay, then the laughter from the English-speaking guests when it was translated. 

"So I want to talk about the other side of this. When I met Naomi, she was a dead woman walking. She had nothing to live for but revenge, and she thought she'd never be able to have it. She was so frustrated by her condition that she couldn't communicate to anyone about anything that wasn't directly critical to the investigation. Conversations ran past her while she was trying to compose an interjection. She cried all the time, out of frustration, out of sorrow, out of fear. She was only with us because she didn't know how not to be. I wish I could have done more to help you, but, well, look at me." The audience didn't know whether to laugh at that. "But as you and Misa got closer, you came back to life. You stopped hating yourself so much because you found someone who respected and looked up to you. You started to believe you could accomplish your goals because you had someone to back you up. You didn't trust yourself. You couldn't really trust her yet... but you could trust that she trusted you, if that makes any sense. Everyone, even the most grizzled and uncaring of us cops, noticed how much you were warming up. How much you were coming back to life. You had someone who you could just talk to, and not only people who needed to be briefed. You didn't die, but it took a while for you to be alive again."

With a sigh, he set down his drink and rested on his knuckles. "I know a best man's speech isn't supposed to be about all these sad things, but I thought about this a LOT on the plane ride, and I just didn't see a way around it. There was a lot of tragedy around you two, and maybe there still is. Things didn't exactly end on the best terms with everyone, and maybe we still need to try and be better people. But I think... I think if something this beautiful can come out of something so horrible, that's the best any of us can hope for. For the world, for ourselves, whatever, I don't know. That's it for my speech, we can all get to dancing."

We clapped. Beautiful.

And yeah, we got to dancing next. The DJ played our song, "Till the End of the Day" by Shonen Knife, a band Misa normally never would have looked for and Naomi would have never found. And we danced like nobody was watching because boooooooy were we bad at it. Everyone else started to join in, in a trickle, as they realized that there really was no minimum skill level needed to participate. Ami's boyfriend got on one knee and proposed in between songs, and even the people who didn't speak Japanese knew what it meant and thought it was sweet.

And we got lots of pictures, with lots of people. Got a bunch of copies for our own album -- the love memorial -- the album inside the love memorial. And hung out a bit more and listened to people chat. And we got everyone together and both of us threw the bouquet, and Matsuda caught it, of course, and we said that everyone should be trying to catch it because at a lesbian wedding the bouquet could mean either 'I am the next girl to be married' or 'I am the next to be married to a girl'. I guess in retrospect gay guys should have still sat out but that was too niggling a detail to get into. And we had a bunch more hugs, and wishes of luck, and none of us knew why but we tied tin cans and strings to the back of the crappy rental car, and we drove off to our Motel 6 honeymoon suite, after a joyous day.

But the ceremony wasn't over yet. One more important thing to do, just with us, away from prying eyes. One very special gift to give and receive. 

Naomi slipped a thin, black leather collar over Misa's neck, right between the two rows of pearls. It didn't look like a collar for a slave or a pet, it wasn't thick and black and didn't have spikes or a nameplate. It was more of the black-rose motif, and it looked to people who didn't know like just a fashionable choker. But it wasn't. It was a collar. The sign of love and trust and ownership two people share. The constant reminder of the loving and supporting presence of the dominant, strong but never hard, upon the submissive. The bind that would link them forever. We didn't exchange blood because no WAY were we going to risk staining the dresses, but we did the collaring with a ceremonial reverence to it. This was it. It fit perfectly on Misa's body, as we fit perfectly on each other's hearts. We were two weirdos who were going to be happy with each other forever. Everything in the world was as it should have been.

We'd love to say we took our dresses off and ravished each other all night long. But it was a long day, and wedding dresses are hot and heavy. We took them off and groaned and flopped onto the bed and fell asleep curled up in each other's arms at like 9 PM. We had all the time in the world to get romantic with each other, and all the time in the world to rest.

### 
    
    
    * * *

"Master di Medici, sir. It's Watari."

"Quincy, yes."

"Sir, I've delayed my report in hopes I could do more to save the situation, but I have nothing but bad news. Master Ryuzaki has gone through with it. Miss Misora and miss Amane have begun taking cases outside my supervision. They will be serving as L under assumed identities."

“Yes, sir, they have.”

"No, sir. I was unable to get miss Amane to reveal Beyond Birthday's true name. Had I pushed her any harder, she would have begun to suspect my motives. For the time being, we will have to put up with mister 'Birthday' and his eccentricities."

"I didn't stop it because Master Ryuzaki is in no condition to serve. He deserves rest after what we have put him through. Even you can agree with that. I simply hoped to have a more advantageous transition of power, or perhaps merely a hiatus."

"No, I do not believe they will serve adequately as L. They are too emotionally involved. Miss Amane refused my counsel, and Master Ryuzaki was in no position to offer his. They will be far too distracted to provide the proper commitment to service."

"Yes, a new L would be the best course. I shall inform mister Ruvie that L shall require a successor. I can recall two very promising candidates of his, though they are not fully matured. It will take some years, but you are nothing if not patient. We have all the time in the world to prepare."

"Yes, sir."

"Long live the Trust, sir."


End file.
